


Standstill

by Aeolist



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Time Freeze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:51:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeolist/pseuds/Aeolist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their encounter with an impossible planet, the Doctor and Rose go for a visit to the Powell Estate, only to find that they're stuck and the rest of the universe - time itself - is frozen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stuck

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Rointheta

“How about a trip home?”

“Come again?” Rose quirked an eyebrow, staring at the Doctor, and adjusting her position on the jump seat.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning against the console, and gave a little shrug.

“You know, see your mum, eat a few home cooked meals, do your laundry -- well, have her do your laundry, at any rate. Supposing you haven’t finally told her that the TARDIS has an ultra-efficient twenty-fifth century combination washer dryer that cleans clothing _far_ more effectively.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “She likes doing it for me. Makes her happy. And efficient machines or not, laundry’s a pain, so why not let her have at it?”

“Right, so, it’s settled. A trip home, then. Ish, anyway. Home one of two, if you like.” He shrugged again.

She smiled, hopping off the seat and stepping towards where he stood by the Time Rotor. She trailed a hand along the console, careful not to touch any of the buttons or knobs. His eyes followed her and he stood up straighter.

“Sure, I guess. Been a little while and, after yesterday and all, it might be nice to enjoy the simple things. You know… warm shepherd’s pie, Top Gear reruns,” she pivoted her toe against the grating, back and forth, “hopefully no demonic possessions...”

“Right,” he said, eyes shuttered.

She tugged at his sleeve, and he met her eyes, leaning towards her just slightly. The Time Rotor’s gentle green glow against his skin highlighted the fine lines around his eyes, which were darker, nearly black, in the low light. She nudged him gently with her shoulder, smiling at him.

“It would be nice to see her, after… after thinking I wouldn’t be seeing her again. You’re sure you don’t mind?”

His expression softened and he moved his hand to grasp hers, the sudden substitution of soft coat with softer hand sending a small jolt through Rose’s arm.

“I insist.”

She bit her lower lip, then nodded. “Yeah. All right, then.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and released it, moving in front of the console and pressing a series of buttons. The Time Rotor pulsed to life, and so did the Doctor, jumping between a lever on one side and what looked like a bicycle horn on the other, shouting instructions at Rose, throwing switches, and smashing the console with his favourite rubber mallet.

After a moment, they landed, the rough lurch sending Rose stumbling into the console for support. A second jerk was too much, though, and she fell hard onto the grating, laughing and shaking her head.

She began to right herself but the Doctor was already standing over her, hand extended, and she grabbed it to help herself up.

“Never fails,” she said, brushing off the back of her jeans one-handed.

“Ah, but that’s what makes it fun.” He smiled, squeezing her hand again. “Shall we?”

Rose was taking her first eager steps towards the door, pulling the Doctor along, when the Time Rotor let out a groan, shuddering so harshly it sent a deep vibration through the console room that she could feel from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. Alarmed, she glanced at the Doctor, who released her hand and approached the console, face intense, just as a ‘pop’ echoed in the room and sparks flew.

“Doctor!” She made a grab at his hand, trying to pull him away from the sparks, but his fingertips slipped through her grasp and he moved in closer, holding an arm up to shield his gaze.

He evaluated the Time Rotor, leaning in closely, and pulling his glasses from one of his pockets. It gave one final quiver and went still, the column nearly dark but for the subtle illumination at its top.

“That’s not good,” he said, brow furrowed.

“Oh, do you think?” She stepped closer, gaze shifting from the Doctor to the Time Rotor and back. “What happened? Are you okay? Thought you were gonna set on fire for a second, there.”

He glanced at her, flashing her a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Me? Nah. Flame resistant. Don’t you worry.”

He went silent, staring closely at the rotor for a long moment, then moving his focus to the monitor. Rose watched him, eyes flickering to the column every few seconds in nervous anticipation of follow-up sparks.

“Well, we’re here, anyway,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “She must just be a bit off. Falling down a pit - particularly an impossible pit - isn’t good for anyone, even the TARDIS. She probably just needs some time to recuperate.”

Rose eyed the barely illuminated Time Rotor, nearly as dark as it had been when they’d arrived in the London with all the zeppelins.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” the Doctor said, flashing her another quick grin, this one more genuine. “Come on, Rose Tyler. Let’s go say hi to your mum before I lose my nerve.”

She spared one last glance at the console until the Doctor took her hand again. Letting out a deep sigh, her steps regained their earlier enthusiasm. Throwing the door open, Rose couldn’t hold back a grin as she stepped into her living room.

“Hello! Mum, we’re home!”

She tugged the Doctor along, looking over her shoulder and letting out a bark of laughter at the slightly queasy look on his face.

“The Doctor _insisted_ on a visit. Said he wanted a home cooked meal. I think he misses your shepherd’s pie!”

“That’s -- that’s not precisely what I -- Not that I don’t like --”

“Mum?” Rose craned her neck, surveying the empty living room, then looking through the pass-through window into the empty kitchen.

“Well, looks like she’s not here,” the Doctor said, turning back towards the TARDIS. “I’ll just get back inside and make sure the TARDIS is feeling okay and you can - well, you said - reruns, was it? And she’ll come home soon and we’ll have a dinner that is not composed of shepherd’s pie. Takeaway, maybe? Love takeaway. How about Thai?”

She released his hand with a small sigh, turning around as they went their separate ways. He re-entered the TARDIS and she headed down the corridor towards her bedroom. There, Jackie Tyler stood in front of the linen closet, arms stretched high above her head, phone between her ear and her shoulder.

“Mum! There you are. Didn’t you hear us? Big, loud ‘vworp’ noise? Yelling hello? Whatever Bev’s got to say can’t possibly be _that_ interesting...”

Close enough to see her properly, Rose watched as her mum stood, reaching on her tip toes, hand clenched around a clean towel. She was very still.

“Mum? Do you need help or something?”

Jackie didn’t move.

“Mum?”

Rose waved her hand in front of Jackie’s open eyes. Nothing.

“Okay,” Rose said to herself, turning and walking back towards the TARDIS with wide, quick steps. She opened the door, sticking her head inside, eyes landing on the Doctor. He stood, hunched over the center console, already deep in concentration, hand in his hair.

“Doctor,” she said, keeping her voice level.

“If the batteries on the remote’ve gone dead again, you can do it yourself this time. You know the setting, right?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the sonic screwdriver, holding it out to her without looking up.

“Doctor, I think something’s wrong. My mum’s-- Um. Well -- I’m, I’m not sure.”

His eyes snapped up to hers, focus on the console forgotten as he quickly made his way towards her. She turned, heading back to the corridor, feeling him follow behind her. She measured her steps carefully, kept her breathing even, all in sheer willpower to remain calm. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds between the TARDIS and the linen closet, but the moment felt suspended. Rose’s heart beat hard in her chest, pulse sounding in her ears, skin hot yet sensitised to the cool air in the apartment. They reached Jackie, who was still on her tip toes, her position precisely the same as when Rose had first seen her.

Rose swallowed hard, eyes wide. “She’s - she’s sorta stuck, I think.”

The Doctor stepped in front of Rose, peering down at Jackie and waving his hand in front of her eyes much the same as Rose had done. Face lined in concentration, he pulled out the sonic, and its buzzing briefly filled the quiet apartment. After a few seconds, he replaced it in his pocket, facing Rose with a frown.

“Hold on a tick,” he said, turning abruptly and striding down the corridor, back into the living room.

“What are you--” Rose followed, worrying her lip and watching as he threw open the curtains.

“Aha! Well, that explains it.”

“What is it?”

“Come look.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Rose joined him at the window, looking out into the estate and the street beyond.

She gasped.

Everyone - _everything_ was frozen. Mrs. Fisher, the codgy lady from the second floor who was known in the estate for loudly turning away Christmas carollers if they sang anything but ‘Silent Night,’ was still, standing on the asphalt outside on the ground floor, mid-stride with her pushcart, full of Tesco bags. Two boys of about ten, in the middle of an improvised one-on-one game of footie, were suspended mid-jump and mid-kick, respectively. In front of the apartment, a pigeon was still in the air, wings raised high and feet held straight, close to landing on the handrail. Far off, the bit of street she could see was filled with stopped cars. There was even a plane, frozen in the sky, angled up towards the clouds in its ascent from Heathrow. She swallowed, taking another step toward the window and looking closer, shoulder brushing against the Doctor’s.

“So that’d be _everything’s_ sorta stuck, then.”

“Yep.”

“How do we fix it?”

He appeared lost in thought, staring out into the frozen world, expression serious, dimple showing in his cheek.

“Doctor?”

He started, glanced at her. “Sorry. What was that?”

“How bad is it? The TARDIS going all…” She made an exploding motion with both hands. “Now this.”

“Oh, no, no, not bad at all. Quick fix. Easy. Not a problem. I know exactly what the issue is...” He trailed off, peering for just another second until he dropped the curtain, turning to face the living room.

“And.. you’re sure.”

“Oh, absolutely. Very sure. Very, very.” His expression went from pensive to eager like the flip of a switch. “Still, don’t get to see this often, do you?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Right. Course. First time for you.”

“But not you?”

“Oh, no. Second. Or, um, fourth, maybe? It does happen. Usually when I’ve got somewhere urgent to be, but now…”

He sat on the sofa, bouncing experimentally, propped on his hands, arms out at an angle, mouth turned down. Quickly bored by this, he retrieved the remote control from the coffee table and hit a button, watching the telly expectantly. Nothing happened. He placed the remote back on the table, standing, and leaned forward to push the button on the telly itself. Still nothing. He moved to the opposite side of the room, flicking the light switch off, but the room remained lighted. Then, he walked into the kitchen. Rose craned her neck to find him twisting the gas burner into the ‘light’ position, but the range didn’t click.

“See that? Can’t use electricity. If it was on, it’s staying on. If it was off, it’s staying off. And listen,” he held up a hand to his ear in illustration and Rose looked around, focusing on the quiet. “No sound. Tellies left on, radios, cars, it’s all silent. Frozen.”

“Why’s everything frozen but us?” She moved from the window, sitting down on the sofa and poking at the remote herself before turning her body to face where he stood in the kitchen.

“Well, without getting into the quantum physics and string theory of it all… It’s the TARDIS. It’s sort of like when we’re in the Time Vortex. There’s no time there, not really, but the TARDIS suspends us in our own.. time field, I suppose, is an easy way of putting it, though, of course, it’s terribly complicated. In one sense, time is frozen right now, but in another sense, time is going on as it always does and we’re suspended outside of it altogether.” He fiddled with the little door of the kitchen pass-through, sliding it shut and opening it again. “We were inside the TARDIS when this happened, so we’re existing outside of the time freeze. Basically. Not to worry, though. No one will notice a thing once it’s put right.”

“What if we change things, then?” She picked up the remote, moving it tentatively onto the sofa cushion. “From my mum’s point of view, it’ll be like it just happened out of nowhere, yeah?”

“Exactly.” He leaned on his elbows, smiling at her warmly. “If we move something, it’ll be… instantaneous change to her once we’ve set things right. Poof!”

He ambled back into the lounge, hands in his pockets.

“Come to think of it…” He reached into his pocket up to the elbow and rifled around for a moment. “Ah, see. I knew I still had this.” Grinning, he pulled something out of his pocket and Rose’s eyes widened, a smile blooming on her face, when she realized it was the red paper crown left over from Christmas. Giving her a wink, he walked down the corridor and Rose followed, giggling as he opened the crown and placed it gently on top of Jackie Tyler’s head.

Getting a look at her mum with the crown on her head, Rose laughed harder, bending over and leaning one hand on the wall for support. “Oh, her face is going to be…” She struggled to speak, laughing again. “I can already see it…”

The Doctor joined in, puffed up and clearly very pleased with himself. “Think I should draw a moustache on her?”

That sent Rose into another fit of giggles. Taking a moment to calm herself, she finally said, “Don’t you dare. Not unless you want to get a smack.”

“I want that crown back, though,” the Doctor said to Jackie, eyeing her suspiciously. She continued to reach for the towel, now looking festive. “Mind you return it.”

Rose tugged him by the sleeve of his jacket. “C’mon.”

He turned, bumping into her and smiling broadly. “Oh, but this is _neat_!”

“I think ‘eerie’ might actually be closer to the mark. It’s not like there’s much to do with the world all frozen, anyway.”

His eyes glazed. “Oh, there’s _so_ much we can do.”

“What do you mean, like, robbing a bank or something…?” His eyes cleared, flashing to her, eyebrows high and wrinkling his forehead. She felt her cheeks heat up. “Not that I want to… Nevermind. Look, we travel through all of time and space. I really doubt there’s anything in frozen London more exciting than that.”

He shrugged. “Fair enough, then. Let’s get this fixed.”

Rolling her eyes, she released his sleeve, walking down the corridor and into the TARDIS, plopping back down onto the seat. The Doctor bounced in behind her, pausing in front of the console to flip a large, green switch and then crouching down and sliding a piece of grating aside. He lowered himself down quickly, feet and legs and torso and, finally, his head, moving out of view. Rose leaned forward, head lifted up, trying to see into the hole he’d created, to no avail. With a shrug, she positioned herself horizontally on the jump seat, stretching her legs onto it, crossing them at the ankles, and leaning an arm onto the headrest. Her feet hung off the edge.

His head popped up, now clad in a headlamp. He looked remarkably like a gopher, twisting his neck and body around around until his eyes settled on her. “What, not gonna help then, are you?”

She blinked against the glare, raising her eyebrows and fighting back a smile. Some things never changed. “Who, me?”

“If you could find the time.”

“Not sure I can just now, actually.”

She swung her legs back over, settling on the floor, and stood, standing over him, looking down as he worked. He had both his hands deep in the machinery beneath the time rotor, reaching with clear effort, face strained and cast in shadows from the indirect light of the headlamp.

“All right, what do you need me to do?”

He raised his head in her direction and she squinted against the glare. “Just stand there and tell me how attractive it is that I’m so…” He paused, touching his tongue to his upper lip, and Rose averted her eyes. “...adroit. Yes, that’s a good word. Or, hm, dexterous.”

She rolled her eyes, hands itching for something to chuck at him. “So you don’t need any help, then?”

“How ‘bout skilled? Agile? Maybe handy? Or is that a bit off the mark, what with this being Hand Version 2.0...”

She sat down on the grating, legs criss-crossed, and played with a strand of her hair, looking up at the coral ceiling and doing her best to ignore the way he was kind of right about the attractive and agile thing.

“Rose?”

“Hm?”

“A little help?”

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, Doctor: It’s very attractive that you’re so … adroit.” The word sprang unnaturally from her lips and she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a small chuckle, feeling silly.

He hummed in response and Rose watched as he stuck one arm even deeper into the TARDIS machinery, wiggling his whole body, before pulling it out altogether with a flourish.

“All right, then, that’ll be it,” he said, switching off the headlamp and dropping it into its designated spot. Bracing a hand on either side of the opening in the floor, he pushed himself up, lifting one knee, then the other, onto the grating and climbing out of the hole. He replaced the flooring, brushing his hands off with a grin.

“What’d you do, hit the ‘reset time,’ button?” Rose asked.

He moved his head back and forth in a small motion. “Well, you’re not _wrong._ ”

She stood, placing her hands on her hips. “So, is it back to normal outside?”

“Should be!”

She stepped back towards the door, throwing it open and marching into the apartment without waiting for the Doctor.

“Mum?” she called, headed towards the corridor again.

Jackie was right where they’d left her, silent and still and wearing a little crown.

Rose turned, the Doctor’s name on her lips, but he was already right behind her and she bumped into his chest, throwing herself off balance. He moved his hands to her shoulders to steady her.

“She’s still frozen,” she said, face close to his.

He looked over her head, swallowing, lips pursed. “Yeah.”

“Didn’t it work?”

“Um… Probably need to dematerialise first. Come back to where we were aiming for the first time and, Bob’s your uncle, everything’s right as rain.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, about to ask what went wrong, when he moved a hand down from her shoulder to her fingers, clasping them gently and pulling her back to the TARDIS. She followed him inside, watching as he flipped a lever and began the dematerialisation sequence.

Nothing happened.

The Time Rotor stayed dark, subtle illumination from the top dim, but not dim enough to hide the worried look on the Doctor’s face.

“Everything okay?” Rose asked.

He flicked a switch on the console back and forth, frowning as all remained silent.

“I think we might be a little stuck.”  


* * *


	2. Stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their encounter with an impossible planet, the Doctor and Rose go for a visit to the Powell Estate, only to find that they're stuck and the rest of the universe - time itself - is frozen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: [Rointheta](http://www.whofic.com/viewuser.php?uid=17849)
> 
> * * *

 

 

Standstill by resile

**Summary:** After their encounter with an impossible planet, the Doctor and Rose go for a visit to the Powell Estate, only to find that they're stuck and the rest of the universe - time itself - is frozen.  
 **Rating:** Adult  
 **Categories:** Tenth Doctor  
 **Characters:** Rose Tyler, The Doctor (10th)  
 **Genres:** Action/Adventure, Romance  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Challenges:** None  
 **Series:** None  
 **Published:** 2013.11.11  
 **Updated:** 2013.11.26 

 

Standstill by resile

Chapter 2: Umbra

**Author's Notes:** Beta: [Rointheta](http://www.whofic.com/viewuser.php?uid=17849)

* * *

  
The Doctor was back under the grating, headlamp shining a pinpoint of light ahead of him that only emphasized the darkened console room. He muttered to himself, words Rose suspected might be curses echoing through the quiet every few minutes. He’d opened a larger piece of floor, this time, so she sat with her legs dangling above him, watching as he tinkered with the base of the Time Rotor.

He’d fetched a set of tools, leaving them next to her seat on the grating. They were wrapped in a cloth that unfolded like a blanket, familiar and unfamiliar implements shining softly in the dim light. He asked for something now and then, altogether leaving Rose feeling rather like a surgeon’s assistant.

She worried her lip, watching him with careful eyes, measuring his mood, and doing her best to keep her face neutral, supportive, against the muttering and mounting tension in the air.

“Can you hand me that spanner? The big one.”

“Sure.”

Rose selected the biggest spanner from the assortment in front of her, its heft weighing down her arm. She leaned over and handed him the tool, careful not to lose her grip until his hand was secured around it.

Taking it from her, he looked down at it for a second, contemplating. Then, he hit it against the base of the Time Rotor with a loud ‘twang,’ listening to the sound with the utmost attention. He did it twice more. Rose bit the inside of her cheek, watching both the Doctor and the base of the Time Rotor in concern.

“She’s definitely feeling a bit ill,” the Doctor said, adjusting the strap of the headlamp on the back of his head and mussing his hair in the process.

“And you think whacking her with a spanner’s going to help?”

He leaned closer to the piece of machinery in front of him, narrowing his eyes, mouth gaping open. The bright light of the headlamp reflected off of it, illuminating his face. Rose looked away.

“But what is making her feel so…” He trailed off, settling a hand on the back of his head and leaning closer still. “It doesn’t make sense. Every other time, it’s been a glitch in the temporal stabiliser. Easy peasy, five minute job. This, though…” He backed away in a quick motion, looking up at Rose. “Grab me that hydraulic torque adjuster, would you?”

Rose stared at the Doctor for a second, shifting her focus to the blanket full of tools, then looking at him again, eyes wide.

He peered up at her, eyes flitting between her face and the blanket. “The, the.. the one with the round bit, and the long bits…”

At least three tools on the blanket fit that description.

“I’m not sure which…”

“It’s, um, sort of silvery. Long and thin.”

She scanned the tools, finally locating an item that looked a lot like some sort of metal insect with long, silver legs, and a round bit that resembled a head. She grabbed it, reaching down to hand it to him, her torso and arm stretching with the effort to place it in his too-far hand. He took it from her, fingers brushing against hers, soft and a little bit slippery with oil from the machinery, and she let her hand linger on his for a couple of seconds longer than strictly necessary. She rubbed her fingers together idly, looking down at her hand, but there was no visible grease.

With an air of distraction, he secured the tool to a bit of loose metal at the rotor’s base, then gave the column another thwack.

“Aha!”

“Is that good, then?”

He didn’t respond. Rose leaned back onto her arms and lifted her chin, watching him burrow deeper into the machinery. After a long moment of studying the instrument, pressing his ear against the column, even giving it a little lick that made Rose exhale a small laugh, the Doctor finally looked up.

“Can you hop down here? And grab the yellow pliers.”

She scrutinized the tiny, dark space where the Doctor stood. It would be a tight squeeze. Grabbing the pliers tight in one hand and lifting herself up with her arms, she dropped down into the hole. The Doctor caught her by the waist, hands brushing from the sides of her stomach to her waist, softening her landing to a dull thud. Rose looked down at his hands on her, but the light was too dim to tell whether he’d left a grease stain on her shirt.

“Okay?” he asked, giving her waist a little squeeze.

“Yeah.”

He’d adjusted his headlamp away from her eyes. It pointed up, leaving his face in shadows. His hair looked nearly blond where the light hit it. Her eyes lost their focus, watching his face without really seeing it, concentrating on the press of his hands against her waist, on the tenebrous, nearly silent room, on the tight space and the smell of metal. He slid a hand from her waist to splay across her back, rubbing gently with his thumb.

“Rose?”

“Hmm?”

“The pliers?”

She frowned, raising her hand, surprised to find the pliers were still resting there. He released her and took them.

“I’m going to adjust the alignment of the space-time locator, but I’ll need you to hold this piece in place.”

He gestured to a thin, L-shaped metal latch hanging off the base of the rotor, its one feeble bolt loosened beyond the point of stability. Rose grabbed it, pushing it firmly against the base to secure it in place as the Doctor watched. Nodding once, he resumed his focus on the TARDIS, leaning in, head buried, pliers clinking against metal. His elbow bumped against her stomach once, then twice. After a few minutes, Rose’s arm began to get tired, fingers aching as they pushed into the metal. Finally, he popped up, grinning, his hair brushing her upper arm as he adjusted in the small space.

“Think that might just do it!”

“Can I let go, then?” Rose motioned to the part with her head, blinking against the light of his headlamp.

“Yep! Tremendous job, by the way. Some of the best keeping-a-part-in-place I’ve seen in a long time.”

“Yeah, thanks. Been practicing, I have.”

“Well, it shows.” He winked at her. “Let’s go see if the ‘reset time’ button worked. Need a leg up?”

She rolled her eyes. “Think I can manage.”

She hopped up, pushing herself high enough to pivot both legs smoothly onto the grating, standing with minimal effort or adjustment. Putting her hands on her hips, she looked down at the Doctor, eyebrow raised.

“Bronze, remember?”

Eyebrows raised and lips turned down in appraisal, the Doctor said, “Ten out of ten, I’d say.”

“Shut up and come on.”

He joined her, his launch back onto the grating not nearly as graceful. Smile wide on his face, he grabbed her hand, nearly dragging her out of the TARDIS.

\---

“You’ll figure it out,” Rose said, looking out the window and counting how many of Mrs. Fisher’s grocery bags were filled with wine. Three, it looked like.

“Of course I’ll figure it out. I’m brilliant. The question is why what I figured out so far _wasn’t_ it.”

“‘Cause it’s something else?”

“Cheeky.”

“Yeah, but I’m right.”

He didn’t respond, watching the frozen world for another moment before letting out a sigh. “Could check the photon accelerator coils, I suppose.”

He moved toward the TARDIS, tension writ across his face, but Rose grabbed his hand, pulling him back and leaning her shoulder against his upper arm. His eyes shifted to her and he leaned back.

“Doctor. You’ve been under the flooring for hours. I’m hungry. It has to be time for tea, yeah? If time were moving, anyway.”

His face grew thoughtful. “It’s been nine hours and sixteen minutes since you’ve last eaten, relative to our personal time field. No wonder you’re getting a bit peckish.”

“It’s a bit weird that you-- No, nevermind that. Anyway, weren’t you saying how there was _so much we could do_?”

“One or two things, maybe. Or three.” He weaved their fingers together.

“Does that maybe include stretching our legs and finding some food?”

“You can eat in the TARDIS. And stretch your legs,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

“I need some fresh air.”

“Well, I suppose we could...”

She cut him off. “So take a break, yeah? We’ll come back, I’ll get some kip, and you can put that brilliant brain of yours to use. Impress me when I wake up.”

He puffed up at her compliment, smile spreading across his face.

“Then, with any luck, we can have breakfast with my mum.”

He tilted his head to the side, scrunching up his nose. “Oh, but it’d still be lunch…”

“You’re right. Think we could talk her into brunch?”

“Oooh. _Love_ brunch! There’s this little restaurant on Jupiter’s moon, Europa, in 3653… Has the best spinach quiche I’ve ever had. Nothing quite like Europan spinach. And the _mimosas_. Bottomless! Drank so many I actually started to feel tipsy. They threw me out, actually.” He frowned. “So many broken eggs. Still! Different face, now, shouldn’t be a problem. We could go, after...”

His eyes lingered on the TARDIS, frown returning.

“C’mon,” Rose said.

He looked at her and she grinned, sticking her tongue out just a little bit. It was enough to make his smile return.

“All right. You win. Allons-y!”

\---

The Doctor and Rose walked hand-in-hand, eyes trailing along the frozen city-street: bodies in all manners of impractical and uncomfortable-looking positions; cars like stopped traffic without the idling of engines; heavy doors pitched open, refusing to shut; cyclists, perfectly still and perfectly balanced; and the occasional newspaper or piece of rubbish, falling and suspended midair.

“It’s a bit eerie,” Rose said, evaluating a posh looking man in a suit. His fist was clenched and raised, tiny bits of spit hovering in the air near his open mouth, angry eyes trained on an empty black cab passing him by.

“Oh, but think of all the mysterious good deeds we can do.”

The Doctor paused, plucking a mobile phone out of the air and sliding it into the loose hand of a woman who’d lost her grip on it. The mobile was expensive, one of those new ‘smart phones’ with a delicate glass screen, and her face had been frozen in panic, eyes wide and mouth open. He squeezed her fingers around it a little tighter so it wouldn’t fall again, giving her a pat on the head and Rose an eyebrow waggle as he continued walking.

“How’s that work, anyway?”

“Good deeds? Oh, it depends, really--”

“No, I mean, moving her fingers. Were they stiff? Will it hurt her when she’s unfrozen?”

“Naah. Pretty bendable, humans.” He narrowed his eyes, glancing at Rose’s face for a second, before continuing. “‘Course, get too rough and, sure, might be able to break a bone or tear a muscle, but it shouldn’t be an issue so long as you’re gentle. It’s not like she’s _literally_ frozen; she’s still malleable.”

“And what’ll it feel like to her when she’s ‘unpaused’ and her hand’s gone from relaxed to clenched?”

He tilted his head in thought. “Well, like someone’s just closed her hand very quickly. Uhm, like -- a muscle spasm.”

Rose crinkled her nose. “Sounds unpleasant.”

“Ah, but they’re known to happen.” He pulled her closer, a teasing look on his face, and she let herself stumble into his side, squeezing his hand. “Who knows? Could be, last time it happened to you, you’d just been ‘unpaused,’ yourself.”

“All right, now, _that’s_ an eerie thought,” Rose said, shaking her head.

They walked for another moment in companionable silence until Rose caught sight of one of her favorite restaurants, an Indian joint she’d been to a handful of times until she’d moved back home and was too broke to eat out. She stopped and the Doctor did too, watching her look through the window.

“Do you like this place?”

“Yeah.” She toyed with a piece of her hair. “Used to come here sometimes after work for some takeaway or a few pints. Not often. S’always busy. And a little too expensive. But the curry’s really great.”

He shrugged, flashed her a grin. “Good enough for me.”

The Doctor released her hand and walked to the entrance of the restaurant, sliding gracefully around the woman who was holding the door open and positioned halfway through. Rose followed, surveying the crowded, silent curry house: the long queue at the cash register; the lunch buffet behind the counter; the patrons, dressed in business attire, some eating while standing, others sitting, all strapped for space.

Approaching a small, empty patch of countertop, the Doctor hopped over, one gangly leg nearly kicking the register as it swung in a wide arc and landed on the floor next to the cashier. He stepped to the start of the lunch buffet, grabbing a styrofoam takeaway container.

“What’ll it be?”

A smile spread across Rose’s face. “Oh, but we need the little apron and the hat!”

“As I’ve told you before: I’m no dinner lady.” He arched a brow at her, picking up a serving spoon filled with paneer tikka. “I am merely a chivalrous curry connoisseur.”

“Could’a fooled me.” She grinned. “All right, then. Some of that, thanks.”

He beamed, dropping a spoonful into the container.

“What else?”

“Hmm. Chicken curry?”

He spooned some of that in, as well, then added a spoonful of lamb vindaloo in the spot next to it.

“Rice?”

“Obviously.” Rose smiled, biting her lip.

He added quite a liberal amount of white rice, piling into a neat little sphere in a segment of the container.

“Think you’ve got a knack for that, Doctor.”

“Well, just thought I’d show you how it _could_ be done. No chucking down the slop onto the tray over here, see?”

“Oi! You might start chucking things down a bit after the hundredth plate you make. Particularly when you’re serving the bloke who’s to blame for all the… slopping.” Rose glared at him, nose crinkled in simulated irritation. “And, you know, I hardly ever get to dress up, and then when I _do_ it’s all ‘ghosts in Cardiff’ or ‘dinner lady.’”

“Well, I think you looked nice in your uniform. Very fetching,” the Doctor said, looking down, decorating the edges of the container with a few stray pieces of curried potato.

“Ta. How about a samosa?”

“Vegetable or lamb?”

“Vegetable’ll do.”

“Aaand… Papadom or naan?”

“Hmm. Naan. Wait, make that garlic naan.”

“Coming right up!” He grabbed two samosas and two pieces of naan, piling them on top of the rice and letting the lid flap over, though it was too full to shut.

He reached out, handing Rose the container. She took it, stepping back, and chuckled as he jumped back over the counter, trainers sliding against the tile floor. He turned it into a productive loss of balance, sliding all the way to the cart with the utensils and grabbing two forks and a handful of napkins.

“Outside, I think,” he said, gesturing at the crowded restaurant with one arm, palm up. “Though I suppose we could sit on someone’s laps. They wouldn’t mind a bit.”

“No, thanks.”

He stopped in front of her, broad smile on his face and forks in his hand.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Rose said, eyes on the cashier. “This is stealing.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Well, it’s relative.”

“No, it’s stealing. And I’ve seen this guy before; he’s nice.” She walked over to the cashier, rifling around in her pocket, searching for a stray bill or two without any luck. “Didn’t bring my wallet. Lookit, I’m turning into you, aren’t I? No money for food.”

“We’ll leave a nice, big tip in the jar tomorrow. I know I’ll need a break from your--” The Doctor closed his mouth, opened it again, closed it, looked up at the flourescent lighting.

Rose rolled her eyes. “C’mon, then. You look like a great, gaping fish.”

She turned and left the restaurant, ducking around the woman in the doorway and tearing a small piece of naan hanging out of the container and sticking it into her mouth.

Making her way to a bench in a sad, little square of city grass, totally eclipsed by the asphalt around it, Rose placed the container between them, flipping it open. The Doctor handed her a fork and she dug in.

The first bite of paneer hit her mouth and she groaned aloud.

“Mmm. Haven’t had this in ages. ”

The Doctor watched her, eyes smiling, though his mouth was blocked by a piece of naan covered in chicken tikka. He took a bite, pausing for a moment to evaluate.

“Not bad! Not the _best_ , mind, but of course that title goes to--”

“Nope! Don’t ruin this for me. Let me enjoy.” She placed a forkful of chicken and rice into her mouth. “Ows isso awt?”

“Pardon?” The Doctor stifled a smile, mouth and eyes crinkling, cheeks puffing up. He scooped some more chicken onto his naan.

Rose swallowed. “I said: ‘how’s it so hot?’ Should be cold by now, but it’s still scorching.”

“Won’t lose its heat,” he said, around a large bite of lamb and rice. “Not while time’s stuck.”

She held the bite of paneer and rice up to eye level, watching it carefully. “S’not even steaming, is it?”

“Oh, it is. Or, was. Will be. Can’t see it, though.”

She shrugged, eating the forkful of food.

They finished quickly, Rose’s enthusiasm and the Doctor’s large bites emptying the takeaway box in record time. Tossing it into a bin, they clasped hands, walking back to the apartment slowly, pausing to giggle at frozen people with particularly silly facial expressions or body positions (including one woman who was squatting down with a face that could only be described as ‘trying to poo’ - they couldn’t come up with any other reason for her to be in that position).

The sky was bright, sun glinting harshly off the asphalt of the estate, but Rose couldn’t suppress a yawn. The Doctor watched her, eyes warm, squinting. He unclasped his hand from hers, throwing his arm around her instead, squeezing her close. She leaned in, breathing the scent of cloth and curry, until the stairs forced them to disentangle.

As they climbed, the anxious undercurrent returned like smoke creeping under a closed door. His steps grew quicker even as Rose lagged behind, belly full and head heavy. She took her time, savouring the thoughts of stolen takeaway and rescued mobiles, dreading the darkened TARDIS and unanswered questions.

Entering the console room, her eyes were drawn to the Doctor, standing rigid by the rotor, swinging the monitor into his eyeline and tapping it in quick motions.

“I’m off to bed,” Rose said, voice quiet but still clear over the dampened hum of the TARDIS.

“‘Night.” The Doctor didn’t look up.

Swallowing hard, Rose headed to her bedroom, hoping for good news in the morning.

\--

“Rose.”

She rolled over onto her stomach, leg jutting out from under the duvet, pillow covering half her face.

“Rose.”

She grunted.

A weight settled onto the mattress, the dip in the bed shifting her weight from her stomach to her right hip. She lifted her head, opened one eye, blearily looking up at the source of the disturbance.

The Doctor sat next to her. Dim light filtered in through the open doorway, framing his face and body in deep shadow. She opened her other eye, rolled slowly onto her back. Sat up.

“Everything okay?”

“I’m sorry. For waking you. For - a lot of things.” His face was lined, subtle crinkles made harsh by the darkness of the room.

“C’mere,” she said, tugging his arm.

He seemed to deflate, gravity overtaking him as he lay next to her, over the covers. She heard him swallow, then sigh. She closed her eyes, hand groping for his. When she found it she entwined their fingers.

“S’not morning yet.”

“May never be morning again.”

“Mm. You’ll figure it, Doctor. But it’s okay to take a break. With me.” She felt her breathing slow, tried to rub her thumb against his but couldn’t quite summon the energy.

His hand in hers was still, his breathing quiet. He didn’t speak again before she fell back asleep. 

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=52539>


	3. Teaspoon :: Standstill by resile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their encounter with an impossible planet, the Doctor and Rose go for a visit to the Powell Estate, only to find that they're stuck and the rest of the universe - time itself - is frozen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: [Rointheta](http://www.whofic.com/viewuser.php?uid=17849)
> 
> * * *

 

 

Standstill by resile

**Summary:** After their encounter with an impossible planet, the Doctor and Rose go for a visit to the Powell Estate, only to find that they're stuck and the rest of the universe - time itself - is frozen.  
 **Rating:** Adult  
 **Categories:** Tenth Doctor  
 **Characters:** Rose Tyler, The Doctor (10th)  
 **Genres:** Action/Adventure, Romance  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Challenges:** None  
 **Series:** None  
 **Published:** 2013.11.11  
 **Updated:** 2013.11.26 

 

Standstill by resile

Chapter 3: Penumbra

**Author's Notes:** Beta: [Rointheta](http://www.whofic.com/viewuser.php?uid=17849)

* * *

  
He was gone when she woke up. Her hand rested palm up on the duvet, fingers cold.

\--

Rose took her time showering, dressing, brushing out her hair, and applying her makeup. She headed to the galley, first, feet trudging along the corridor, hand occasionally trailing the surface of the wall. The corridor, like the console room, was dim, the hum she was used to muffled to a dull buzz.

The Doctor was waiting for her in the kitchen, sitting cross legged, one foot bouncing against the floor, an arm laid haphazardly against the small dine-in table, fingers drumming lightly against it.

“Oh, good, there you are!” He jumped up in a smooth motion.

“Morning,” Rose said, evaluating him with a raised brow. “Any news?”

His shoulders fell, face growing nervous. “Not yet, no.”

As quickly as the change in his demeanor appeared, it was gone again. He rocked back on his heels, eyebrows halfway up his forehead, expectant expression on his face.

“But!” he said, “I’ve set up some diagnostics. First, the fault locator - that should be telling me what the problem is, which means it might, itself, be the problem - won’t know till we run that diagnostic. I’ve checked the mercury levels in the fluid links and the fast return switch already, so we’ll need to wait and see what else could be wrong with it. Then the TARDIS will run some additional tests on the general bits - you know, the synchronic feedback circuit, the multiloop stabiliser, that sort of thing.”

Rose stared.

He screwed up his face in thought. “A bit aggravating, that even the parts we don’t bother with could be causing the problem. Still! On the right track.”

Nodding slowly, she said, “So, that’s good, then. Run some tests, relax a bit, then go back to it…?”

“Relax! What do you want to do that for? You’ve only just got up!”

“I don’t mean _sleep_ ,” Rose said, crossing her arms.

“Honestly, Rose, ten hours has to be more than enough.”

“I’m not going back to sleep, Doctor, I just meant--”

“Great! Right! Cause I had something else in mind.”

Offering a weak smile, Rose turned towards the cupboard. “S’fine. Just let me get some brekkie first and we’ll do whatever you like.”

“Ah, but that’s part of my plan.” He reappeared in front of her, squinting at her in a state of manic agitation. Grabbing her hand, he gave her a rather alarming wink and dragged her out of the galley.

\---

“Crepes!”

Rose swallowed, looking around the mostly empty gourmet crepe cafe. It had been an _inordinately_ long walk and her stomach was growling loudly at regular intervals.

The restaurant was pink and brown and, oddly enough, decorated with paintings on the walls of polka dots and roses. One bored looking employee sat behind the cash register, eyes trained down to her lap on something unseen. Several patrons sat in pairs around the place, engaged in frozen food and conversation. One man was stuck in the middle of a most unflattering, oversized bite, eyes half-closed.

Hopping behind the counter, the Doctor stood near an assortment of toppings behind glass.

“Savory? Sweet?” The Doctor wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Um. There any Nutella back there?”

“Ah, there most certainly is.”

“Just Nutella and bananas, please.”

He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I know, bananas’re good. You going to make me a crepe, or what?” She paused. “Wait. How’re you even going to make one?”

“I have my ways.” The Doctor wiggled his eyebrows again, pulling a frying pan off of the stove top. “Actually! Mind hopping back here as well? Could use some help.”

Rose smiled, springing gracefully over the countertop and landing next to him with a soft thud. He handed her the sonic, grabbing the pan and holding it in the air next to the bucket of batter.

“So, the setting’s already, well, set. Just buzz it a bit when I say. Hold it close to the pan.”

Rose moved the sonic next to the pan, watching the Doctor for a signal.

“Buzzzzz.” He winked.

She activated the sonic and felt heat start to come off the metal of the frying pan. After a few seconds, he spread the batter, swirling the pan gently and watching the crepe set. He flipped it a moment later with a smooth jerk of his wrist, and Rose re-applied the heat setting as the second side cooked.

“Oh, look, it’s steaming,” Rose said, kneeling over and watching closely.

“That’s cause we’re bringing it into our time field,” the Doctor said, flipping the crepe onto the counter and spreading Nutella and sliced banana over it. “Same as when we rescued that mobile. Move something, change something - while we do that, it’s operating out of time, just like we are. Couldn’t use a stovetop for the crepes, not when you need time to light a flame and heat up a pan, but the sonic - which exists out of the frozen time field to start - that works just fine. The crepe we make is altered, part of our own time field, once we’ve done that. Sort of like - you’d still see your breath if it were cold enough for that, even if everyone else’s would be frozen.”

“Could you do that with a person? Bring ‘em into our time field?”

“Nah,” the Doctor said, handing her the crepe, folded neatly and wrapped in parchment paper. “Can’t do that with anything sentient. Really, with time frozen, it’s as if nothing _is_ sentient. Could heat ‘em up, though. Not - not that we would.”

Rose unwrapped the paper covering the top of the crepe. It smelled delicious, looked like something cooked by a chef, perfectly golden. Her mouth watered.

He looked up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed, wiping out the pan with a spare rag and replacing it on the stovetop, shifting his weight from one side to the other and back. “Come on, then. Today it’s eat and walk.”

\--

They walked for fifteen minutes, their path taking them down Drury Lane and onto Museum Street until Rose saw a familiar building looming ahead.

She turned her head to the Doctor.

“Are we going to the British Museum?”

He grabbed her hand, swinging it between them.

“Yep!”

Rose stopped. The Doctor tugged for a second, but she didn’t budge. He turned, hand tightening around hers, eyes wide, face nearly desperate.

“Doctor.”

“There’s an exhibit on now, ‘Crafting Beauty in Modern Japan,’ if memory serves. Modern is relative, of course - modern now isn’t modern in the 51st century, but - modern or not - early 21st century Japanese art is actually quite the turning point, and, and the exhibit -- it’s got ceramics, textiles, wood, bamboo-- And - I know these exhibits aren’t free, thought maybe it might be nice, since--”

“Doctor, the exhibit’s like five quid, it’s not like it’s something I couldn’t’ve--”

“I just - I haven’t taken you to 21st century Japan. I wanted to, after Kyoto.”

She sighed, taking a step closer.

“You will. You don’t need to make me walk four miles first thing in the morning to show me Japanese ceramics, Doctor. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.”

He rubbed at his ear, face sheepish. “There was going to be more, after that.”

“Like what?” Rose took another step forward, pulling her hand from his and wrapping both arms around his waist, under his coat. He hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head and let out a sigh.

“I thought, you know - the full tourist experience. The exhibits at the National Gallery, maybe, or the National Portrait Gallery -- could do the Tower of London... Westminster Abbey, the London Zoo, Buckingham Palace… Do you know, it could cost as much as £275 for two people to see all of that, with the exhibitions and the food and all?”

“You wanted us to do all that today?” She pulled back, watching his face. He bobbed his head from side to side.

“Well, not _all_ today. Figure we’d start with the museum, maybe move onto the National Portrait Gallery after; it’s not terribly far… Hm. Have you ever been to Madame Tussaud’s?”

She let out a laugh, grabbing at the back of his suit jacket. “What, you’re gonna take me to a _wax museum?_ The whole bleedin’ world’s a wax museum right now.”

He swallowed. “Suppose you’re right.”

“And none of those are even close to each other - how much walking were you planning on having us do?”

“I just thought--”

She rubbed up and down his back, aiming for soothing, watching his face. He stopped talking, swallowing and staring over her head.

“It was a nice thought,” she said. “But I’ve been to half those places on school trips and, honestly, museums - exhibitions - all that? That’s not really for me, Doctor.”

“No?”

“Nah. Save the Japanese ceramics for our next trip to Japan, yeah?”

“And if---”

“No ifs. No ands or buts, either. And _no_ tourist rubbish.”

He nodded tightly, glancing down at her and back over her head again. “Right.”

“Now, can we please just go back to the TARDIS and relax?”

“Yeah.” The Doctor stepped out of her embrace. “Yeah.”

\--

Shoulders bumping, grins returned to their faces, they entered the TARDIS. Rose’s cheeks were warm from the long walk back, her feet tired.

He stopped at the monitor, pulling on his glasses and scanning the screen silently. She hopped onto the jump seat, moving her legs up to criss-cross them, and watched.

It only took him a moment to pop his head up. “The diagnostics won’t be done for hours, yet, but there are other things I can-- if you, if you don’t mind.”

“‘Course. Do you need any help?”

He gave her a sidelong glance, a smile spreading over his face.

“Your just being here’s helping.”

She smiled back, playing idly with a strand of hair hanging in her eye. After a beat, he refocused on the screen, but the smile on his face remained.

\--

After several long hours of TARDIS troubleshooting focused on the computer system instead of the machinery, the Doctor explained that all there was left to do was wait for the diagnostic results and, in the meantime, go over some of the equations he’d recalibrated. While he’d welcomed Rose to stay, the jump seat was making her back ache and the dim console room was making her sleepy when, timelessness aside, it was way too early for bed.

Instead, she made her way down a long, dark corridor to a familiar set of green, gilded double doors, with two magazines and a paperback clutched in her hand. Pushing the door open, Rose stepped into the fragrant TARDIS garden and moved slowly down the moss-covered steps.

Wild flower bushes in reds, indigos, and neons dotted the trail, occasionally overgrown and tumbling into the path. Grasses in green, blue, and violet blended together in swirls, branching out into sections assigned to different ecosystems, reminding Rose of the intersection of the yellow and red brick roads from The Wizard of Oz.

She headed towards the fruit and vegetable garden. It was filled with a variety of edibles, mostly from planets she hadn’t yet been to. Making her way there, she hopped over a cluster of vines, sidestepped a gigantic, overgrown cabbage (its resemblance to the monster from Little Shop of Horrors was slightly unnerving), and used a crooked, orange coconut palm to swing herself over a small stream.

When she reached her destination, she found a patch of teal grass beneath a Cay Coi tree, which grew the most popular vegetable from the planet Rau. This was the perfect spot, as the Cay Coi grew out of earth so soft that the grass around it was like a pillow-top mattress. Plus, it was gorgeous, one of the few non-earth-origin plants in the garden she recognised easily due to its large, burgundy, feathery leaves.

Like the console room, the garden was muted, somehow. While it was never precisely bright, there was something especially dim about the atmosphere now and a quick scan around the garden revealed several specimens that looked to be unhealthy - perhaps drying out. She frowned, wadding some oversized grape leaves into a makeshift pillow, and pulled out a magazine, doing her best to distract herself until there was something more she could do.

\--

She woke with a start, sitting up straight and disturbing a butterfly that had, apparently, been perched somewhere on her face. The garden was still the same dim shade, the artificial nighttime not yet taken over.

Looking around, her eyes settled on the Doctor, who stood under an avocado tree about ten yards away, his back to her, clenched hands held behind him.

“Doctor?”

He turned. His eyes were dark, eyebrows knitted up around wide eyes in an expression replete with punctured hope.

“You’re awake. I-I wasn’t here to--” He turned, took a single step towards her, then stopped. “I came here to be alone, and then…”

“Great minds, then. C’mere,” Rose said, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

He moved towards her, sitting next to her on the soft, teal grass, knees drawn up to his chest.

“No, I mean…” Rose gently placed her hand around his forearm, tugging him down towards her.

Staring at her with a mixture of fear and desperation, he lay back against the pillowy grass, turning onto his side and facing her. She turned to face him, as well, moving the forgotten magazine off of her torso and onto the grass next to her, and then adjusting the makeshift pillow closer to him in case he wanted to share, though he rested his head on one arm. He’d closed his eyes, expression pained.

“Hey,” Rose said, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. He didn’t open his eyes. She stroked his face gently with her thumb. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve got us out of worse, eh?”

“I can’t feel her, not like normal,” the Doctor said, voice so quiet Rose had to scoot forward to hear him. “It - it hurts. It’s all I’ve got, that one bit of connection, up here--” His eyes snapped open and he brought his fingers up to his temple, his hand brushing along hers as he gestured.

“Oh, Doctor.”

“And the diagnostics told me nothing. _Nothing_. They ran like normal, took their bloody time about it, too, and -- the results were -- they were nonsense. I don’t know what’s wrong with her-- why she’s so quiet, up here.” He swallowed. “And I think it’s getting worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

His face was a near-snarl. “Don’t be. You’re the one who’s trapped and it’s my--”

“Hey. Stop it.” She leaned closer to him, brought her hand to the side of his neck, rubbing gently. “What did I tell you, last time? Not so bad, remember?”

“Rose.”

“You have to stop being so hard on yourself, Doctor. I won’t have it. That’s my best mate you’re talking about.”

He sniffed, eyes slipping closed again.

“You shouldn’t have to be…”

“What? Comforting someone I care about? Helping to fix this situation which is _neither_ of our faults? Tell me I shouldn’t be doing that, and I’ll tell you you’re wrong.”

“I don’t…” He stopped, letting out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“You don’t ever need to thank me. Not ever.”

He nodded, moving his free arm down to wrap it around her waist and pulling her closer. She readjusted, one arm hugging his shoulder, the other wadded under her leaf-pillow. Sticking a foot between his ankles, she rubbed the back of one trouser leg with her bare toe. He let out a shuddering breath and pulled her flush against him, burying his head in her neck, a hand splayed across her back.

“Thank you,” he said again, voice muffled.

She moved her hand into his hair, rubbing circles against the back of his head, enjoying the feel of the thick, soft strands against her hand. She let out a small sigh of her own, tension draining from her own body as it drained from his, as though they were linked.

He pressed a gentle kiss against her neck and she gasped, hand stilling. He said nothing, and, after a few seconds, she resumed her motions against his scalp. He only clutched her tighter.

It was a long time before they moved or spoke. Eventually, Rose’s stomach let out a growl that sounded a lot like a whimpering puppy and the Doctor laughed against her neck. She squirmed, his cool breath tickling her ear, and his fingers tightened against her back, breath streaming across her again with an evil chuckle.

“Oi, stop that. Gah!”

“Mm. Fine.” The Doctor released her, pushing himself up with one arm.

Rose sat up too, stretching her arms (one of which was tingling rather unpleasantly) and letting out a big yawn. When she opened her eyes, the Doctor stood above her, hand extended, looking marvelously debonair apart from the blade of teal grass sticking straight up on the back of his head. She took his hand, smirking.

“All right, then, Rose Tyler. Let’s get you some nosh.”

\--

Thankfully, this time the choice of venue was the galley, which was nowhere near a four mile walk.

“For all your little comments about beans on toast, you have to admit they’re good in a pinch,” Rose said around a bite.

“No, not bad at all.” The Doctor stuck half a piece of toast in his mouth, one bean escaping, dribbling down his chin and onto the floor.

She finished her meal in silence, legs crossed, but posture loose, keeping an eye on the Doctor, who mostly looked messy and not half gluttonous. But then, he hadn’t had a crepe of his own that morning.

After a few minutes of silence, Rose furrowed her brow, pushing her empty plate aside and turning to the Doctor.

“D’ya think the TARDIS is frozen, too?”

“Wha-?” The Doctor glanced up at her, the remaining portion of his toast shoved into his mouth.

“Well, s’like... We can’t dematerialise, y’know? And the console room is quiet. Everything’s sort of… dim. And the garden - I was out there for ages, but the artificial night never started, it was just kinda... grey. But the plants looked, I dunno. A bit dry? Like they’d been getting too much daylight, maybe?”

He stared at her, eyes wide, and swallowed his huge bite of beans.

“Rose Tyler. You are _brilliant_. Brilliant!”

She looked away, grin forming on her face, and gave a little shrug. “A-thank you.”

He shot up out of his chair. “Because it _shouldn’t_ be frozen, but - you’re right. Oh, I’ve been so _stupid_. It’s happening slowly - so slowly - but the TARDIS is slipping into the time field around us, losing its-- and she’s fighting so hard, pushing everything else aside to keep out of time -- that’s why my connection is weakened -- that’s why the non-essential functions like garden regulation and lighting have been set aside. It’s so clear, now, I don’t know how I didn’t see it. It’s got to be the chronofield dampener…” He stopped, face growing serious. “Oh, but that means…”

“What, Doctor?”

“I know what the problem is. But I also know what happens if we don’t fix it.”

She watched him expectantly, but he was avoiding her eyes, rubbing at the top of his head in irritation. Lips turned down, he finally discovered the grass in his hair and plucked it out, tossing it onto the floor. He was stalling.

“Tell me.”

“Well… It’s not so much ‘stuck together,’ as ‘frozen, ourselves.’” 

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=52539>


	4. Teaspoon :: Standstill by resile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their encounter with an impossible planet, the Doctor and Rose go for a visit to the Powell Estate, only to find that they're stuck and the rest of the universe - time itself - is frozen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: The wonderful Rointheta
> 
> * * *

 

 

Standstill by resile

**Summary:** After their encounter with an impossible planet, the Doctor and Rose go for a visit to the Powell Estate, only to find that they're stuck and the rest of the universe - time itself - is frozen.  
 **Rating:** Adult  
 **Categories:** Tenth Doctor  
 **Characters:** Rose Tyler, The Doctor (10th)  
 **Genres:** Action/Adventure, Romance  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Challenges:** None  
 **Series:** None  
 **Published:** 2013.11.11  
 **Updated:** 2013.11.26 

 

Standstill by resile

Chapter 4: Antumbra

**Author's Notes:** Beta: The wonderful Rointheta

* * *

  
“It has to be in here somewhere!” He threw a tangled ball of black wiring over his shoulder and it landed on the hard floor with a soft thump.

“The chrono dampener, you mean?”

“Chrono _field_ dampener. And no, not that. Know I don’t have another of those. Would hardly need to look for it, if I did; they’re enormous. Size of a diplodocus. And I’d know.”

Rose sat in one of TARDIS’s storage rooms the size of a small auditorium, toying with a dusty old alarm clock she’d found in a pile of knick knacks. She’d followed him there after he’d rushed off, leaving the last bites of her beans on toast cooling and congealing on the countertop inside the galley.

Now, piles of junk, some as tall as Rose herself, were stacked around them in no discernable pattern, and the Doctor dug through them with a gusto that was steadily turning frantic. He searched through each pile, chucking bits and bobs around the room, until Rose could no longer tell what had been sorted through and what hadn’t.

The Doctor frowned, turning some kind of thin computer screen with a single button at the bottom over and over in his hands. It had a long crack running through it and it was caked in dust. He threw it onto the floor and the crack spread, branching out like lightning.

“Then what?”

“What, what?” he said, the dimple showing in his cheek. He brushed aside a huge portion of a pile with his arms, leaning in with a great deal of his body weight to shunt it onto the floor. Once the junk was spread out, he gave the assortment in front of him a terse nod and dug in with both hands.

“What is it you’re looking for, if not another chronofield dampener?”

“A — part.”

“Yeah, I figured that,” Rose said. “I just meant — y’know, what’s it do? What’s it called? Maybe I can help instead of just watching. Have you got a picture somewhere or something?”

“I don’t think-- no. The TARDIS archives images of component parts that are actually being used, but this was just a spare bit of machinery lying around…” He paused, tongue touching his top lip as he tossed a rusty bicycle pedal over his shoulder. “What I’m looking for… it’s called a transmutory alternator.”

“And what does it look like?”

“Oh, it’s sort of a long, tubey thing, hooked onto a— well, something that looks like the carburettor from a 1976 Austin Allegro, actually.”

“Right.” Rose dropped the alarm clock, plopping her bum onto the floor. “Anything else I can do, then? Cause I’ve no idea what that looks like.”

He glanced at her, face thoughtful. “Hold on.”

He dug into one of his trouser pockets, nearly up to the elbow. She watched him root around, smile forming on her face as he finally pulled out a small sketch pad and pencil. “Are your pockets bigger on the inside?”

He shot her a sidelong glance, eyes crinkling. He flipped the pad open, and he wiggled his eyebrows up and down at her as he started to sketch. After a moment, he showed her the drawing. The transmutory alternator was cylindrical, with notches and gears covering most of its visible surface area, apart from where large pieces of tubing emerged from its bottom. The shading on the drawing made it very clear that the device was some sort of metal.

“How big is it?”

“Oh, about.. yay size.” He held his hands a few inches apart.

“All right, then, let’s find it.” She smirked. “Assuming it actually looks like that.”

“Oi, are you trying to insinuate that my amazingly accurate sketch isn’t amazingly accurate? Because I’ll have you know that I’m a _brilliant_ artist.”

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” She stuck her tongue out at him and, together, they started sorting through the nearest pile.

After a few minutes of silence, Rose asked, “So this thing’ll help you fix the chronofield dampener?”

“Not exactly.”

“What’s it for, then?”

“It’ll… well, it’s a power source for the chronofield dampener. Sort of. The current power source is fried. The transmutory alternator isn’t _exactly_ the same, but it’ll do. All I need to do is tweak one or two things, and I should be able to use that instead.”

They went silent, and while Rose made herself a ‘not it’ pile that was growing in size, the Doctor bounced around the room, farther away from her and closer again, tossing things, and grumbling under his breath.

After a few long minutes and no real progress, the Doctor picked up an ancient and delicate looking hour glass and hurled it at the floor. Rose flinched away, then turned in surprise at the sound it made: it hadn’t broken. Instead, it bounced, three — four — times, and landed several yards away.

“Sorry,” he said. “Thought that would make me feel better, but it didn’t.”

Rose approached him and placed a reassuring hand on his forearm.

“Hey. It’s gonna be fine. We’ll keep looking.”

“Yes. We will. We’ll keep looking through the _hundreds_ of storage cupboards on the TARDIS, until we’re frozen, forever. It may be my most brilliant plan yet.”

“No, we won’t, we’ll find--- Wait, did you just call this a cupboard?” She turned her head back and forth, taking in the endless piles of knick knacks and machinery. “It’s like a gymnasium in here!”

“Cupboards are relative.” He looked down at her hand on his arm, face unreadable.

“Can you, I dunno, build one? Bit of wire and a paperclip, that sort of thing?” She squeezed his arm, smile on her face, but his eyes remained downcast.

“No. I can’t build one, because we’re stuck in early twenty-first century _Earth_ , of all places, and transmutory technology won’t be available here for another several thousand years.”

“And since we can’t dematerialise, we can’t go somewhere they’ve got them,” she said with a sigh. “But you’ve got one, somewhere, yeah?” She stroked his arm, staring at the sliver of oxford at his wrist. “It’s around here somewhere?”

He placed his hand on hers, stopping its motion. “Yes.”

“Then we’ll find it.”

He didn’t reply, eyes focused where his hand covered hers.

“Listen, I’m– You were so nice, offering to come see my mum after — the other day, and if it weren’t for me needing a visit, we’d probably be somewhere with better technology, and you wouldn’t have to–”

“Don’t.” He looked up at her, deep frown on his face.

“I’m just sorry, that’s all,” Rose said, glancing at him, chewing lightly on her lip.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His fingers tightened around her hand.

“Then neither do you.”

He pursed his lips. She went silent for a moment, staring at nothing, focusing only on the feel of the Doctor’s cool, dry hand on hers.

“Doctor. How… long do we have? To find it? Before...”

He swallowed, shaking his head in a tiny, jerking motion. “Dunno. Could be a week, could be a day or two. It all depends how long she can...” He trailed off, brow furrowed. “Let’s try another cupboard, shall we?” He pulled his arm out of her reach and stalked towards the door of the ‘cupboard’ without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

With a small sigh, Rose followed.

\--

They found the transmutory alternator in the ninth storage cupboard they tried.

Rose spotted it next to a grandfather clock that looked half eaten by termites and lifted the device with some effort, calling for the Doctor. His eyes lit up and he rushed over to her, taking it from her carefully.

“Think the tubey bits were a little off in your drawing,” Rose said with a grin, standing next to him and peering over his shoulder.

He didn’t respond, holding the alternator up to his eye level and examining each tiny ridge, face drawn and tense. Finally, after a long moment of silence that had Rose wringing her hands together, he looked up.

“It won’t work.”

Rose’s stomach sank and she let out a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. “Why not?”

“It’s — decayed. The power’s gone dead.” He shook his head. “How can it be _dead_? I only got it a few decades ago. That’s the last time I trust that Venusian black market.” He let out a harsh breath through his nose. “Well. Probably is.”

“You can’t power it back up? Not with the sonic, or–”

“No.” He placed the alternator onto the nearest junk pile, rubbing two knuckles against the centre of his forehead. “Once they’re dead, they’re-- Well, useless. Not a lot you can do with a dead transmutory alternator. Though I suppose it’d make a good paperweight.” He clenched his eyes shut and let out a deep sigh.

“Okay.” She paused, eyes flitting between the discarded alternator and the Doctor’s tense face. Injecting brightness into her tone, she said, “So how’re we going to fix the chronofield dampener, then?”

Lost in thought, he crinkled his nose, tilting his head back and forth as he started to pace. “Hm.”

“Doctor?”

He rapped against his head, movements growing increasingly frenzied. “Oh, but that would mean…” He opened his eyes, sticking both hands into his hair and running them through until it was in total disarray. Finally, he turned to look at her, a manic gleam in his eyes. “Right! I’ve got an idea.”

He left the alternator on a pile and headed down the corridor in the direction of the console room. Rose followed, stepping quickly to keep up with him, as he ran a hand back and forth through his hair.

“What we need is another alternator. And those don’t exist yet, not here. But they’re common elsewhere.”

“But we can’t--”

“Can’t leave in the TARDIS, right. But when I say common… Well. There are more than a few ships that have an alternator in ‘em, and more than a few planets where they’re produced. So what we _really_ need to find is… alien stuff.”

“Alien stuff.”

“Yep. Alien stuff.”

She nodded, biting her lip. When he didn’t elaborate, she asked, “What d’you mean, alien stuff?”

“Archives. Archives of alien stuff. There could be an alternator there.”

“What, like van Statten’s bunker?”

He missed a step, turning to her with his head cocked. “Hm. Not a bad idea. Backup! But no. I’d rather not take a rowing boat across the Atlantic, and I’ve no idea where I left my British Seagull.”

“What?”

“I’m hoping it’ll be here. Well, not _here_ , know there’s not another one. Though the TARDIS is its own sort of alien archive, isn’t? But I mean here, as in, London.”

“You’re hoping there’s an alien archive with an alternator in it somewhere in London?”

“Exactly! And why shouldn’t there be? Who’s to say there isn’t?” He beamed at her over his shoulder and, reaching the console room, pulled the monitor towards him, typing quickly on the nearest keyboard. He whipped out his specs and leaned in closer.

“Who’s got an alien archive in London?”

“UNIT.”

“What, that group of alien experts you used to work for? The ones they called in during that mess with the Slitheen?”

“Yep!”

“They’ve got an archive of alien stuff?”

“Oh, yes. Loads of archives, all over. One in each country, definitely, at least.” He leaned in, eyes and hair wild, and whispered. “They think I don’t know about them, but I do.” He raised his eyebrows at her with flourish, then refocused on the computer screen. “And UNIT’s London base could have what we need.”

“So what’re you messing about on the computer for, then? Let’s go!”

“Oh, I would, definitely, absolutely…” He over-enunciated his vowels, eyes trained on the screen. “Only, UNIT’s London headquarters is beneath the Tower of London. Nearly impossible to get into even if the computer systems weren’t frozen. Brute force really isn’t the ideal way to go about this, not unless we know for certain it’s there.” Pulling the monitor forward to where Rose could see it, he pointed at the display. “Which is why I’m going to look it up.”

She watched as he typed furiously, the screen flashing in bright colors and strange characters she couldn’t read. She tilted her head, her eyes on the Doctor as he leaned in, utterly focused.

“Wait, but how can you be accessing their computer systems? Aren’t their computers frozen?”

“Yep. UNIT may have some alien stuff, but an independent time field is one thing they don’t have. These records are internal. The TARDIS accesses UNIT’s computer systems and makes a copy of their inventory every time she lands where and when they’re around. It’s not that I don’t trust them --” He frowned. “Okay, it is that I don’t trust them, but only because you lot tend to get a bit overzealous with borrowed alien tech.” He shot her a look like it was somehow her fault and she rolled her eyes. “Anyway. The TARDIS sets off an alert if they’ve got their hands on something _really_ dangerous, and then I stop in for a cuppa and an explanation. Sometimes a confiscation.” His mouth quirked. “Occasionally a search and destroy.”

“So we’ve got their records, then? You can see if they’ve got an alternator?”

“Well, the records weren’t updated this trip, since we never actually... But! It should be reasonably recent. It was definitely the last time we were here, when we cleaned up Mickey’s…” He cleared his throat, shooting her a glance, and she looked away. “Anyway. That was only a couple of weeks ago, relative time.”

He leaned in closer to the screen, spectacles gleaming in the dim green light. After a moment, he shook his head, mouth tensing and brow creased. “They haven’t got one. They --” He shut his eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. “Right. Next closest. Paris.”

He started typing again and, after a moment, exhaled hard through his nose. “Okay. Not Paris either. Maybe -- Oh. Geneva!” He smacked his forehead. “Of course! Geneva. World headquarters, there has to be---” He stopped, looking up at the room around him, and stroked the console. “Just another moment, I know it’s a strain, but I’m almost--”

The monitor went black, a low hum Rose hadn’t even noticed dying along with it like the sound of an old television switching off.

He swore under his breath, pulling off his specs and rubbing at his eyes. Jaw tense, he walked backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the jump seat and he collapsed onto it. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands.

“Doctor.” Rose followed, sitting next to him.

She placed a hand on his back, fingers nearly fluttering off of him as he flinched away. He stilled and she rubbed softly up and down, the fabric of the suit scratchy against her hand.

“Computer’s down. Power conservation. There’s a UNIT archive in every country in Europe - more than one in a few - and there’s no way to know where to look,” he said into his hands. “And we can’t - we have to _go_ there. We have to get there. And there’s no---”

“So let’s go.”

He let out a harsh laugh. “What, just like that?”

“Yeah, why not? You said Geneva, right? World headquarters? Seems a good place to start.” She frowned. “Bicycles would work, right? Might take a while, but…”

He lifted his head, leaning his chin on his hands and staring in front of him. “We can drive there.”

“What, can you sonic a car into working, too?”

“No, definitely not. Much too complicated - internal combustion engines, not to mention the gasoline. I don’t much fancy having to stop and siphon every other hour.” He sat up, turning towards her. She stilled her hand and his movement brought her arm around his waist. “Scooter. I’ve got a scooter.”

“But you gave it to Tommy...”

“I’ve got a _room_ full of scooters.” He faced her more fully, his thigh brushing against hers, his eyes alight. “And I don’t even have to stick to twenty-first century technology! I’ve got a scooter from fifty-eighth century Zaxonia. I’ve got a _hover_ scooter that’s so fuel efficient it only needs U-235 once every hundred thousand miles.”

A smile spread slowly across his face. She pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows, failing utterly to bite back a grin at the renewed hope in his voice.

“Rose Tyler. Not a moment of defeat - not a _second_ of hopelessness. How do you do it?”

“Easy.” She shrugged. “It’s cause I believe in you.”

He took her hand with one of his, toying with her fingers, and went quiet for a few seconds, as though he were simply absorbing. When he finally looked up, his eyes were so warm that it made her throat tighten. He cupped her cheek with his other hand and turned her head towards him, pressing his lips to hers.

She gasped against his mouth, fingers tightening reflexively against his suit jacket and pulling him closer. His hand drifted down to her throat, palm cupping the junction of her shoulder and her neck, but he kept the kiss soft. When he broke away a few seconds later, he was faintly flushed, eyes wide and mouth agape. She took in a shuddering breath and held it, one hand clutching his fingers, the other, his jacket. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

They watched each other for another second, the air between them still. Finally, Rose exhaled, squeezing his hand. “We should, um--”

“Go,” he said, voice hoarse, and cleared his throat.

“Because there’s not a lot of--”

“Time. Right.”

She released his hand and his suit and stood on wobbly legs. When he rose, still vaguely glassy-eyed, she gave him a little nudge with her shoulder.

“C’mon,” she said, taking his hand. “Show me your room full of scooters.”  


* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=52539>


	5. Pursuit

“Hold this, if you don’t mind?”   
  
The Doctor shoved a rucksack onto Rose’s lap without waiting for her answer. Having taken a cursory tour of the scooter room and selected the hover model the Doctor was particularly keen on (which was waiting for them in the console room), Rose found herself in yet another storage cupboard as the Doctor gathered supplies designed to help them strong-arm their way into the UNIT central headquarters. As she watched him move through the piles she worried her lip, until she finally forced herself to glance down at the bag. She unzipped the largest compartment and waited for him to finish what he was doing.   
  
He scanned the room’s contents quickly, eyes dancing across and over and down, again, a bit farther as though he were reading lines on a page. When he made his selection he turned in a smooth motion towards Rose.   
  
He pressed several sticks of something resembling dynamite into her hand. She looked down at them and back at him with a raised eyebrow.   
  
“They’re safe,” he said.   
  
“Right. You sure about that?”   
  
“Rose.” He walked over to her, dropping down onto his haunches and throwing the doctor’s bag in front of him. He stuck his hands back inside, looking up at her through a few strands of hair that had gone limp. “Do you really think I’d hand you explosives to carry  _on your person_  if they were dangerous? It’s not dynamite. It’s not a nitroglycerin-based explosive. It’s far more stable. Really, it’s fortunate we happen to have… because the mechanics of this particular…” He paused and rubbed at his neck, apparently reconsidering his lecture on explosive compounds, but his eyes didn’t waver. “They’re safe.”   
  
“And what’re we planning on blowing up?”  
  
“UNIT. We need to be able to get inside,” he said, eyes going wide and just a bit nervous, as though he were seeking reassurance that she was still on board.   
  
She smiled at him, but something about the weight of the explosives in her hand and the weight of their kiss on her mind stopped it spreading on her face and cheeks the way it normally would. His eyes fell away from her and he sniffed, turning towards the assortment in front of him and pulling an antique brown leather doctor’s bag out of the pile.  
  
She was quiet for a moment, thinking, until she let out a small laugh, looping some hair behind her ear. He glanced at her, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth.   
  
“What?” he asked.   
  
“Just… you. Blowing stuff up. S’like old times.”   
  
He raised his eyebrows and his expression warmed, smile lingering on his face even as he turned his attention to several small vials he’d pulled out of the beaten leather bag. Curious, Rose watched, and nearly leaned forward to pick up a vial filled with lime green powder he’d placed on the floor before realizing she was still holding the explosives.   
  
“Can I…” Rose gestured to the open rucksack, then waved the sticks very gently back and forth.   
  
“Oh! Sure. Yep! Safe as houses. Just drop ‘em in next to the sandwiches.”  
  
“Drop them, he says. Thanks, but no thanks, I reckon I’d rather place them… gently….” She trailed off as she placed the sticks into the bag and found that she couldn’t locate its bottom. He watched her, smug, until she stuck her tongue out at him. “Yeah, okay, ‘drop ‘em’ because the bag’s bigger on the inside and I can’t reach the bottom.”   
  
“Well, you could probably lean in and reach the bottom.” He raised his eyebrows with a small toss of his head, his face a touch mischievous. “Might want to go in legs first, though.”  
  
“You’re such a show off.” She laughed and he winked at her. “All right, hurry it up, would you?”   
  
His smile faded and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second. She toyed with a small plastic bottle of water, half-full, that sat next to the vial of green powder.   
  
“I get that we might need to force our way in,” she said, changing the subject, “but I thought you can… I dunno. Pull things into our time field, you know? Can’t you access their computers somehow? Get the doors open?”   
  
He shook his head, grabbing a small black pouch and opening it to reveal a variety of tiny metal tools. With a tight nod he zipped it back up and tossed it into Rose’s bag. “We can use what’s in the TARDIS, since that means it’s suspended in our time field, or we can physically move things, break things, heat things... but we can’t access computers. Can’t operate complicated machinery. The sonic may be able to cook us up some breakfast or open a manual lock, but that’s about as far as it goes right now. Gotta break in the old fashioned way.” He paused, tilting his head. “Well. I don’t mean old fashioned, really, since these are explosives from the future, relatively speaking. I do mean using force.”   
  
“But what about when time unfreezes and half the place’s been blown to bits?”   
  
With one elbow on his knee, he ran a hand through his hair. Finally, he looked up and said, “Well, I know one thing: we’ll be long gone.”   
  
Rose nodded. “Suppose it’s better than the alternative.”   
  
He let out a long breath, grabbing the vials and the plastic bottle, putting them back into the leather bag, and tossing the whole thing into the backpack. “I just need-- Those, those powders were hyper-corrosive agents. Mix a few together and add them to the saline and -- well. Corrosive. But I want to bring a catalyst for a short-duration deflagration, too. Just in case.”   
  
“Oh, yeah, sure. I’m sure we’ve got one of those under the sink in the loo. Didn’t you check there?” she said with a grin.   
  
He paused for a second, cocking his head, lips turned down. “You know, actually, you might be right. Oh! And there’s one other thing we need.”   
  
He stood, moving from heel to toe in a fluid motion that left Rose gawking. He grabbed the rucksack and tossed it into the air, managing to loop his arm through the strap as it fell. Finally, forcing herself to break her stare, Rose followed.   
  
\--  
  
The ride down the M20 - well, over the M20 - was smooth, the motorway flying beneath them too quickly to watch without getting dizzy. The scooter hovered about arm’s length over the road, thankfully having lifted from the ground only  _after_  they’d climbed on. They wore matching helmets which were rigged up with microphones and speakers so they could communicate over the roar of the not-technically-wind.   
  
The rucksack, in the end, was slung across Rose’s back, which proved necessary in order for her to hold on for dear life as the Doctor weaved between cars, drove right above the centre lane divider, and occasionally sailed straight across some grass where the road twisted and curved around them.   
  
“Should be about six more hours,” the Doctor said. He leaned forward, body moving naturally with the turns of the scooter, his stance and voice more relaxed than he had been since emerging from the TARDIS into the frozen world.   
  
“That’s - Wow. Just thought it’d be longer.” She tightened her arms around him, fingers finding the seam along the centre of his suit and curling tightly around it as he swooped past a lorry.   
  
“Ah, well. Yes. It is longer - when you’re not going one hundred miles per hour. Which we are.” He glanced at her over his shoulder and she saw his grin through the visor in his helmet.  
  
“Oi, watch where you’re going!” She pinched him in the abdomen as they flew a little too close to a Ford Fiesta.   
  
“Right.” He faced the road again and moved one hand off the handle to pat it against her arm reassuringly.   
  
“And I thought your scooter driving was bad on the ground.”  
  
His shoulders shook gently and she heard a low chuckle in her helmet. Smiling, she slid her left arm a little tighter around his waist and clasped her hands together, giving him a squeeze. He squeezed her arm in return and cut a path across a large field, sailing fast and smooth. With the world around them moving so rapidly, she could almost pretend nothing was frozen. She sighed and rested the bottom of her helmet on his shoulder, watching the cars and trees go by.   
  
\--  
  
After a while, he pulled off the motorway, heading toward the Channel Tunnel, and he hazarded another look over his shoulder at her. She fought the urge to pinch him again.   
  
“Reckon we should go through the service tunnel. It’s got a road and everything, won’t have to fly over the train tracks.” He patted the scooter’s handle. “It’s been running great, but it’s still not worth even a small chance we’d end up broken down and swimming to France.”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Even though it would be something to glide right over the English Channel.”  
  
“Mm. But I’ve never been in the service tunnel either. Took the train for a school trip to Paris once, but that’s it.”   
  
“Well, there you go, then, Rose Tyler! Not many can say they’ve hover-scootered their way through the English Channel’s service tunnel. Particularly not in 2007. Just wait. It’ll be brilliant,” he said as the tunnel’s sign appeared in the distance.  
  
\--  
  
The service tunnel was not, in fact, brilliant, but cramped and narrow, and there were several times they had to slow down to fit between two extra-small vehicles taking up the two extra-small lanes.   
  
Soon enough, though, they were in France, cutting across wide fields but staying close to the motorway so as not to risk getting lost. The Doctor pointed out the towns they passed, telling her about Calais’ role as a central trading hub in the middle ages and the time he worked with the people of Reims to thwart a Poltrexian invasion only to nearly end up beheaded by King Edward III.   
  
Rose settled herself against him, trying several times to lean her cheek against his back but ending up bopping him with the thick helmet that simply wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she looked straight ahead and watched the French countryside, the wide open space marked only by cars and lorries and flocks of birds. She sighed, letting his words wash over her and feeling the stillness of the world seep into her like ink onto paper.   
  
\--  
  
“Rose!”   
  
The Doctor’s voice rang through her helmet and she lifted her head. The scooter was moving at a crawl and the Doctor’s hand was so tight around her arm that it was nearly painful.  
  
“Hm?”   
  
“Under no circumstances were you to fall asleep on the high-speed hover scooter. Was that not clear? Should I have mentioned that explicitly?” His voice was strained as the scooter came to a stop, lowering to the ground until it landed, perfectly balanced, with a gentle thump.   
  
They were on a long stretch of empty road which inclined gradually, making it difficult to see off into the distance. Tall grass grew at the sides of the four-lane motorway and, off the road, one side was dotted with trees, the other backed onto a dewy, green field.   
  
“I wasn’t sleeping--”   
  
“Yes, you were.”   
  
She removed her arms from his waist and he turned, pulling his leg over and sitting side-saddle. He pulled off his helmet and looked at her closely, face grave. She took off her helmet, too.   
  
“Well, I didn’t mean to.”   
  
“Yeah.” The dimple in his cheek stood out as he nodded. “Right. It’s been a long day for you. Haven’t slept since--”   
  
“I napped in the garden.”   
  
“You weren’t napping long. And that was hours ago.”   
  
She let out a yawn. His stare was palpable even as she lowered her head to rest it on his shoulder. “Just give me a minute, yeah? Just a minute and I’ll be fine.”   
  
“I don’t think so.”   
  
“So I’ll get up and stretch, then.” She lifted her head and made to throw a leg off the scooter, but he placed a hand on hers, stilling her.   
  
“Rose.”  
  
“We can find some coffee. Next town over. I’ll be  _fine_.”  
  
“You need to sleep.”  
  
“We don’t have time for me to sleep.”  
  
“Yes, we do.”   
  
“I’m fine.”   
  
“Okay, you’re fine. You’re fine and you’re going to let me drive you to a place you can rest, where you’ll be fine and sleeping. And then we’re going to finish our drive when you’ve had enough sleep to stay awake on a piece of equipment that’s moving at a hundred miles per hour.”   
  
“Doctor--”  
  
“Rose.” He twined their fingers. “I need you safe. I can’t drive this thing if I have to worry you’ll fall off it. And I need your help when we get to Geneva.”  
  
“I can help.”  
  
“Apart from that nap, you’ve been awake for twenty-two hours.”   
  
“I just--”  
  
“We have enough time. Okay? I can feel it, up here.” He tapped his temple with his free hand. “We have enough time and I can’t do this without you at your best. So we’re going to find a place for you to rest for a few hours.”   
  
She swallowed and nodded. He evaluated her for a second, eyes careful, and pressed his palm to her cheek.   
  
“I know a place in Chaumont. Won’t take long to get there; it’s off the next exit. Okay?”   
  
She nodded again, leaning into his hand. “Yeah. Okay. Just a few hours?”  
  
“At least.” He rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone and let out a rough breath. “You just - I heard you. Your breathing changed. And your grip was getting loose - and I was going so...” He stared off into the distance and clenched his jaw. “If I’d turned, or swerved--” He stopped. “Can you promise me you’ll tell me if you feel yourself start to drift off? Please?”   
  
“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course.”   
  
“Good.”  
  
He pulled his helmet back on and swung his leg back over the scooter. She donned hers as well and hugged him around the waist again, splaying her fingers against his ribcage.  
  
“It won’t be long,” he said, as the scooter lifted.   
  
They pulled off the motorway at the next exit and stopped in front of a small inn on the side of the road, parking the scooter on the house’s porch. The entrance was wide open and, once inside, the Doctor approached the front desk, leaning sharply to avoid a bellhop with a large piece of luggage in his grasp, and plucking a room key off the rack. He grabbed Rose’s hand and pulled her gently through the lobby, around a family, between two bellman’s carts, and up the curved, wooden staircase. Rose watched their grasped hands, eyes glazing, until suddenly she looked up and found herself in a room with one modest bed. It was furnished tastefully, but the lighting was dim despite the large window, the air so still it bordered on stuffy.  
  
“You really are tired,” the Doctor said, watching her face.   
  
Rose sat on the bed and tossed the rucksack on the floor, kicking her shoes off and scooting back until her head hit the pillow. With a sigh, she curled up on her side and looked up at where he stood in the centre of the room. “What’ll you do? While I sleep?”   
  
“Oh, I’ve got loads to do.” He cleared his throat and sat at the small desk next to the bed, grabbing the rucksack off of the floor. “Er.. Calculations. Planning.”   
  
“De-- Um. Whatsit. Deflagration?” She smiled, eyes drifting closed.   
  
“Nah. Can’t have that. Once in your presence was more than enough.”   
  
“Hm?” She lifted her head, one eye cracking open and finding him smiling at her.   
  
“Go to sleep, Rose.”   
  
\--  
  
When she woke, still in the same position, hip stiff from lying on it too long, the Doctor was huddling over the desk, scribbling onto a small pad of inn stationery. She stretched, arms high above her head, twisting her torso, until her muscles loosened and her back cracked. The Doctor remained focused, writing and crossing things out, head low, one elbow propped on the table and his hand in his hair, so Rose excused herself to the loo.   
  
“Toilet won’t flush,” she said as she walked back into the room. “S’another mystery we’ll be leaving behind once time restarts: the phantom wee.”   
  
He didn’t so much as glance up at her.   
  
She stepped over to him, pausing and laying a hand on his shoulder. “How’s the calculating? Was I sleeping long?”   
  
“Six hours and twenty-two minutes.” He dragged the pen across the pad, hard, crossing out a symbol she didn’t recognize and ripping the paper in the process. He swore and tossed the pen down.   
  
“Hey. You okay?” She squeezed his upper arm. “God, sorry. That’s stupid. ‘Course not. I just mean, has something changed?”   
  
He turned, pushing out his chair, dislodging her hand from his shoulder, until he was facing her and she stood in front of him.   
  
“No.” He didn’t meet her eyes. “Yes.”   
  
“Doctor, what is it--”   
  
He half-stood, curving a hand around her cheek and jaw, and kissed her, hard, pulling her back down with him as he fell back into the seat. She followed, movements awkward, leaning over him as he craned his neck up and moved his fingers into her hair. He moved his lips over hers, sucking on her bottom lip until heat flared down in her stomach and she opened her mouth to his. He dragged his other hand up across her waist and pulled her closer until she was standing with his closed legs between hers.   
  
She broke away from the kiss, catching her breath and licking her lips, standing over him. She brought a hand up and carded it through his hair in a slow, soft motion. He leaned forward, but she moved away before he could kiss her again.   
  
“Are you sure?”   
  
He let out a laboured breath.   
  
“Doctor.”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
His voice was soft and hoarse. He kissed her again before she could ask him anything else, manoeuvring her, pulling her down, until she was straddling his lap.  
  
Pulling her flush to him, he moved one hand down her waist and under the seam of her shirt, splaying his fingers across her back, and the other to her outer thigh, gripping her tightly and deepening the kiss. She felt him hardening beneath her and rolled her hips, seeking friction to placate the ache running through her, down into her stomach and below.   
  
He broke away and let out a harsh breath, pressing a kiss into her neck and resting his head in hollow of her shoulder. She traced patterns on his scalp, trying to calm her breathing and ignore the beat of her pulse, warm, at her centre, until he lifted his head again, kissing his way up her neck, and along her jaw line. She moaned as he found her lips again and dipped his tongue into her mouth.  
  
Suddenly, he lifted her, his hands supporting her weight under her back and her arse, until he covered the short distance between the chair and the bed. He lay her across it horizontally, her legs dangling over the edge, not quite touching the floor. He leaned into her, one hand coasting down her side, the other cupping her face as he kissed her desperately, breaking away and starting again, letting out short, frustrated breaths in between.  
  
“What is it--” She cupped his face in both hands, pulling back. His face was serious, eyes intense.   
  
“I-I just need--”   
  
He moved his hands down around to the front of her jeans and tugged the button free, moving down her body as he pulled the denims - and her knickers - down her hips.   
  
Cool air hit her bare legs, drawing her attention to the overheated state of her body, the tingles collecting low in her belly, and she hissed as he gripped her under her thighs and pulled her hips to the edge of the bed, spreading her legs wide.   
  
“Okay?” he asked.   
  
She lifted her head, breath coming fast and shallow, and found him kneeling between her legs, expression dark and anxious and heated and gorgeous. She nodded. He placed a steadying hand on her lower abdomen and looked at her for a second, before lowering his head.   
  
At the first touch of his tongue along her slit, she let out a ragged moan and closed her eyes, head falling back on the bed.   
  
He slid a finger into her, then two, curling them, and pressed tongue and lips to her, licking and sucking, movements fast, nearly frenzied, but for their devout focus. The slight weight of his hand on her pelvis grounded her against the onslaught of his mouth and fingers, until he moved it down farther and pressed the heel of his hand to her pelvic bone, just above her clit, and she arched up, clenching around his fingers. Pleasure coiled through her and snapped, and she let out a long, loud moan, pushing herself against his face.  
  
He didn’t work her down, didn’t slow his motions, instead using both hands to draw out her orgasm, sucking at her clit, working her with his fingers, until she seized up again, or maybe still, and he moaned with her as she bucked. When finally she quieted, he rested his forehead on her stomach, his hands on her knees, and she felt his long exhale hit her skin.   
  
“C’mere,” Rose said, after a long moment, propping herself up on her elbows. Her face felt flushed, her legs like jelly, and the pulsing between her legs was still hot, still wanting.   
  
He looked up at her, face expressionless.  
  
“We need to go.”

 


	6. Collapse

It took a second for her to understand his words around the fog in her head.   
  
“Go?” She struggled to sit up, to hold his gaze, but he seemed to be staring at a spot on the wall behind her. He wasn’t touching her anymore; his hands gripped the duvet with white knuckles, but her legs tingled where they’d been.   
  
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “We - there’s not a lot of time.”   
  
This time, his words sunk in properly, heavy in her stomach. Blood rushed to her face, her flush growing hotter as her cheeks burned with shame instead of exertion. Even as her face heated, she felt a chill across her lower body. The throbbing at her centre was still present, still distracting, and she squeezed her legs together, trying to ease it and hide herself from his view.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he said, and backed away, pushing himself up and into the abandoned chair. He swallowed, turning the chair and looking down at the desk. Fidgeting, he grabbed the stationery pad in a shaky motion and slid it into a suit pocket.   
  
“Yeah… Yeah. S’okay.” Rose nodded to herself as she spoke. She looked down at the floor, attempting to locate her pants and her jeans. They were next to his feet. Legs still shaky, she settled her feet on the floor and bent down, picking up her clothes.  
  
“I’m not--” He turned toward her, brow furrowed, but she was wiggling into her knickers, so he stopped and averted his eyes.   
  
Her thighs were uncomfortably wet. She tried to dry herself against the bedspread while keeping her legs closed, pulling her knickers up, and shoving her feet into the holes of her jeans. Her face flushed even hotter as she nearly fell over.  
  
“No,” Rose said as she hurriedly zipped herself. “S’fine, Doctor. Really. We don’t have to--”   
  
“Look--” He stood and the room seemed to shrink. She leaned away from him without thought and the lines on his face deepened. “I am. Sorry. But--”  
  
“Yeah. I get it. We have to go,” she said, trying to keep the hurt from her tone. She found her shoes, pulled them on, and stood.  
  
“After.” He swallowed again, taking another step toward her, and this time she forced herself to stand still, to meet his eyes.   
  
“What?”   
  
“We’ll talk. After - after we fix this. Okay?” His voice was entreating, but his eyes were guarded.   
  
“Yeah. ‘Course. After.” She let out a deep breath and rolled her shoulders.   
  
“Right.”  
  
He made his way towards the door, eyes on the ceiling, and she shot out a hand, grabbing his shoulder, stopping him. He looked down at her, chin still raised, as though he were forcing himself to meet her eyes.   
  
“Hey,” she said, and squeezed his arm. “It is okay.  _We’re_  okay, yeah? Need to be at our best, like you said.”   
  
He pursed his lips, eyes drifting to the wall behind her again, and gave a stiff little nod that made her heart sink. Shrugging free of her hand, he side-stepped her and made his way out the door. Rose’s eyes lingered for a second on the rumpled bedspread and the chair left untucked beside the desk until, forcing herself to look away, she followed.  
  
\--  
  
In Geneva, he stopped the scooter abruptly beside a plain, thick metal door in an unmarked building. Jolted, Rose tightened her lax grip around him, before remembering why it was loose in the first place and hopping off the scooter as quickly as she could. She watched him as he surveyed the door and, taking off the rucksack, she placed the strap into his outstretched hand.   
  
The city was dotted with four and five storey buildings topped in brown and grey angled roofs, instead of the skyscrapers and bleak high rises Rose was used to. The place they’d stopped was right on the water, which was a deep blue and seemed to shimmer even though neither the light nor the water was moving. The waterfront was curved in the shape of a C and, across the way, large, expensive boats were clustered around many docks. A magnificent fountain at the center shot a stream several storeys high into the air, and a long pier curved near its spray, with people scattered from the shore to its end, all watching the fountain.   
  
Rose stood, stretching, and watched the waterfront. When she turned to the Doctor again, he was attaching several sticks of explosives onto the door. A man dressed in dark trousers and an oxford stood next to him, close enough that it would be awkward if he were aware of the Doctor’s proximity. The man’s posture was casual, but Rose noticed a high tech communication device strapped to his belt. A guard.   
  
“Not going to sonic it?” she asked, crouching down next to the Doctor and watching as he taped the explosives to the door. She ignored the way he shifted away from her.   
  
He shook his head. “Won’t work. It’s not a mechanical lock.”   
  
“Anything I can do to help?”   
  
“Yeah. That man, there,” he nodded in the direction of the guard, “we’ll need to get him away from here. At least a few yards.”   
  
She looked between the Doctor and the man, eyebrow raised.   
  
“And you want me to drag him over there by myself? What, does him being frozen make him weigh less?”   
  
“Rose--” The Doctor stopped, clenching his jaw. “I’d let you secure the explosives, but I’m placing them over specific weak points in the door’s structure that correspond with computer circuitry and mechanisms in the--”  
  
“All right, yeah, I’ll move him.” She stood and approached the man, trying to figure out the best way to drag him. He was at least six feet tall.   
  
“Under his arms. Pivot him,” the Doctor said as he taped another stick of explosive to the door.   
  
“Okay.”   
  
She rolled up her sleeves and tucked her arms under the man’s, pulling on his torso until he fell slowly backwards into her arms. With some effort, she dragged him, his boots scraping along the pavement. She kept close to the wall and pulled him along the length of the building, stopping at its edge, where another man holding a clipboard stood next to an open lorry. She let out a grunt and saw the Doctor’s head jerk out of the corner of her eye.   
  
She blew a strand of hair out of her face and called out, “Oi! Is this far enough?”   
  
He looked over at her, face screwed up in contemplation, and nodded.   
  
“Lovely,” she said under her breath, propping the man back up. Though he had been standing up straight to begin with, he seemed to want to fall over now that she’d moved him, so she left him leaning quite casually against the wall, giving him a little pat on the head for good measure. “There. Looking quite comfortable, you are.”  
  
Turning around at the sound of something rustling, she was surprised to find the Doctor next to her. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t crack a smile.   
  
“We’re going to want to stay over here, too,” he said, instead, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the door. “Count of three?”   
  
“Yeah, sure.”   
  
“One -- two --”   
  
The explosion was small, contained, those sticks blasting the metal door wide open with barely a gust of wind touching Rose or the Doctor. Still, after days of near-complete silence, the sound of the explosion was deafening. Rose flinched and the Doctor moved back a step, placing himself fully between her and the door. She grabbed his shoulder, pressing her forehead to his back and squeezing her eyes shut reflexively. When the noise stopped, they sprung apart like they’d been shocked.   
  
The doorway was wide open. The thick, metal door lay flat on the floor, beckoning them inside.   
  
“Well. There we are, then,” he said, and strode off towards it, hands in his pockets.   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
Ears ringing, Rose followed.   
  
Through the doorway was a long, barren corridor, with low hanging lights that looked like they’d normally emit a loud buzzing noise. They walked down a curve at a sharp incline and soon Rose was struggling to keep her steps even as gravity tried to pull her into a run like a child down a hill.   
  
“Are we going under the water?” Rose asked.  
  
“Yep.”   
  
“What, where the fountain is?”   
  
He didn’t reply.   
  
Releasing a frustrated breath, she let the pull down the corridor quicken her step until she outpaced him. Then, she turned, blocking his path. He bumped into her, nearly knocking her over, and had to grab her shoulders to steady them both.  
  
“Rose, what are you--”   
  
“Look. You’ve got to stop it.”   
  
“I don’t know what--”  
  
“Yes, you do.” She stood on her tip toes to compensate for the slope of the floor, forcing him to make eye contact, and he released her shoulders. “I know you’re feeling weird about before, and you’re still blaming yourself for all this going wrong in the first place, but you’re not going to treat me like we’re in the middle of a row. I’m not having it.”   
  
He clenched his jaw but said nothing.   
  
“Listen to me. None of this is your fault. We are going to fix it. And until we do, you’re going to stop treating me so bloody weird. You’re still my best mate. We’ll sort the rest out later.”  
  
“Rose--”   
  
“No. Stop it. Now, you’re going to give me a hug and then we’re going to find that stupid alternator and that’s the end of it. Okay? Stop being daft.”  
  
After a few seconds of silence, he seemed to deflate, and his arms opened wide enough for her to wiggle her way in for a hug. She squeezed him gently, hands resting on the rucksack, head resting on his shoulder. He didn’t loosen or relax or hug her so tightly she felt her back crack, not like normal, but he placed one wide hand from her shoulder blade to the hollow of her waist, fingertips digging into her flesh. For one brief instant, she had to push away a flash of those same hands on her knees, but she didn’t let go. When she did release him a few seconds later, she looked up at his face. Though he still looked tense, his eyes held some measure of warmth again. He blew out a long sigh, expression chastened and uncomfortable.  
  
“Rose Tyler--” His voice was hardly more than a croak.   
  
“Yeah, yeah.” She grinned. “Thank me later.”   
  
\--  
  
Eventually the plunging corridor gave way to another steel, barricaded door, at least ten centimetres thick. Its girth was easily assessed because, as luck would have it, the door was hanging open. Two men and one woman, all dressed in military uniforms, stood in the doorway, saluting one another.   
  
Rose passed around them, first, and the Doctor followed, eyebrows raised, ducking around the officers with his hands in his pockets.   
  
“Do you know where the archive is?” Rose asked, as the Doctor hastened his pace.   
  
“Yep. Been here before. Not  _into_  the archive, but I saw it well enough.”   
  
“Is there more than one? Lots of storage rooms, y’know, like the TARDIS?”   
  
“No, not in Geneva,” he said with a shake of his head. “But the archive’s big. Really big.”  
  
He turned sharply at a corner and Rose ran a few steps to catch up with him, taking his hand in hers on an upswing of his arm. As her hand found his, he shot a look at her, and for an instant his face was so open, so full of unrestrained guilt and pain and want, that she gasped. Then his eyes shuttered again and he walked even faster, forcing her into something between a walk and a run, pulling her along.   
  
After several long minutes of twisting corridor, during which Rose could focus on little besides her hand growing warm and moist in his, the Doctor finally stopped in front of a rather plain looking door. A small placard on the wall labeled ‘Artefacts’ was its only identifying feature.   
  
The doorknob was equipped with a touchpad designed to scan fingerprints, but there was no thick steel, no barricade. There were also no people. Their current location, wherever it was, was so secure that it didn’t require high security.   
  
Releasing her hand, the Doctor approached the door, pressing his fingertips and face against it in several points along the seams and centre. After a moment, he pulled off the rucksack and took out the small container he’d retrieved from under the bathroom sink. He frowned, then dug into his trouser pocket, eventually pulling out a rubber glove. He tugged that on and opened the container, sticking his hand inside. He spread a tacky compound along the surface of the door in quick, efficient movements, until the entire perimeter was covered in gunk. Then, he removed the glove and, with a shrug, stuck it to the door.   
  
“Stand back,” he said, shooting her a careful look. Rose nodded and took a few steps away until the Doctor, satisfied, turned back to the door.   
  
He pulled out the sonic screwdriver and stretched as far back as he could before triggering its buzz. All at once, the edges of the door lit up in a brilliant, blazing sizzle. He jumped back, joining Rose, but almost as quickly, the fire extinguished, and the remainder of the door fell through the hole he’d created.   
  
“Oh, wow,” Rose said, taking a step forward and looking at the expansive warehouse he’d bared to their view.   
  
“Careful. Don’t touch any part of the doorway.”   
  
“Yeah, you think?” She laughed. “You really keep that under your sink, Doctor?”   
  
He glanced at her, small smile on his face, and shrugged, following her into the archive.   
  
\--  
  
They searched frantically through the huge warehouse, tossing bits and bobs out of their way and looking for the alternator. Unlike the TARDIS, this storage area was well-organized, with items placed evenly along sleek, metal shelves. Thus, although the warehouse was huge, it wasn’t long before they realized: it wasn’t there.   
  
The Doctor sat, back against the wall closest to the entrance, rucksack at his feet, and brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping one arm around himself, the other moving to the back of his neck. Rose sat next to him, placing a hesitant hand on his.   
  
“Where’s the next closest archive?”   
  
“Rome.”   
  
“Then let’s go to Rome.”   
  
He let out a bark of laughter and shook his head, stretching out his legs. “We can’t.”   
  
“Sure, we can - you said that scooter can go for thousands of miles without--”  
  
“Not the scooter. There’s no  _time_.”   
  
“You don’t know that.”   
  
“I do. I do know that. We’ve got  _maybe_  an hour. Rome is five hundred and fifty miles away. There’s no way.”   
  
“Then why did you let me sleep so long-- if--”   
  
“Because it  _didn’t matter_! This was it. There was no way -  _no way_  to try another location after.” He stuck a hand into his suit pocket, grabbing the inn stationery and tossing it at their feet. “Mathematically impossible, in the time we had, at the rate the TARDIS is fading!”   
  
“Doctor--” She grabbed his hand, but he shook her off.   
  
“Oh, but you should thank me, Rose Tyler. Being frozen forever’s got to be a better way to go than falling off a scooter at a hundred miles per hour. At least you’re well-rested.”   
  
She shook her head. “There has to be something we can do.”  
  
“There’s nothing.”   
  
“That’s it, then?” She sat up straighter, facing him. “You just give up?”   
  
“ _What_  would you have me do?” He turned fully towards her, his face screwed up in anger and defeat. “Tell me!”   
  
“Try! Try something. So you say we can’t get to Rome in time. So what? You’ve been wrong about things before. Let’s  _go_. What do you want to do instead, Doctor? Just lie down here till we’re frozen?”  
  
“Rose.”   
  
“Or maybe you’re keen to keep sitting here criticising yourself. Is that better? Maybe we can find some bit of alien weaponry on one of those shelves and you can have a go physically, too!”   
  
“Rose--”   
  
“No!” Her voice was harsh, ringing out in the quiet room. “Tell me what it is you’d like to be doing instead! Because you and me? We  _don’t_  give up.”   
  
She waited for his answer, but his wide eyes had taken on a slight shimmer, and she realised he was on the verge of tears just as her own began to fall. His eyebrows knitted, a tear fell, and he curled a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in and kissing her. She leaned forward, cupping his face in her hands, and kissed him for a few, short seconds before pulling away.   
  
“We’re going to Rome,” she said, wiping a trail of moisture from his cheek. “We’re not giving up.”   
  
Eyes still shimmering, he nodded.   
  
“Good.” She stood and extended a hand, helping him up.   
  
He stood, shaky, and knocked into a clipboard mounted on the wall, hitting his head against it and sending it clattering to the floor.   
  
“Oh!” Rose cringed, picking it up and frowning at the Doctor, who was rubbing the back of his head. “You all right?”   
  
He let out a small laugh, looking at her with red-rimmed eyes. “Lump on the head hardly matters, does it?”   
  
She sighed, moving forward to replace the clipboard on the wall. The Doctor watched her, but his eyes grew suddenly wide as he scanned the page passing in front of him.   
  
“Wait.”   
  
He grasped the clipboard’s edge and Rose released it, watching as he looked it over.   
  
“Outside.” He looked at her, eyes alight. “It’s outside!”   
  
“Outside?”   
  
“Right here. See?” He held out the clipboard where she could see it. “‘Arrivals - alternator, small, unknown origin - 13:30, the second of April, arriving via truck, care of Warsaw, serial number 927414.’”   
  
“And that’s - now?”   
  
“Yes, that’s now! Remember? We arrived at your mother’s for lunch at half past noon. Come on!”   
  
He grabbed her hand and broke into a run, pulling her out of the archive and back down the twisting corridors. She pumped her legs hard to keep up, smile spreading across her face. A few short minutes later, they emerged, and her eyes fell onto the man she’d moved earlier, leaning casually against the wall next to a large, open lorry.   
  
“There!” she yelled, pointing.   
  
They reached the truck and the Doctor hopped up into the open bed, turning to help pull Rose in behind him, though she’d already managed on her own. Scanning the stacks of boxes, he located the one with the correct serial number, pulling it free and setting several other boxes tumbling down around them. He tore at the box for a second before rolling his eyes and pulling out the sonic, cutting open the tape with one of its settings. Then, he pulled out the alternator, evaluating it closely. It looked nearly identical to the one in the TARDIS - with slightly rounder edges and a slightly shinier finish.  
  
“It’ll work.” He looked up at her, grin spreading across his face. “It’s going to work!”   
  
She grinned back, launching herself into his arms without thought, looping her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. He hugged her back, laughing, lifting her off the ground and giving her a spin, the alternator poking her in the back.   
  
After a second, she pulled away, frown forming on her face.   
  
“But what about getting back? You said that we’ve only got an hour.”   
  
Still beaming, he opened the rucksack, dropping the alternator inside and pulling out a small item that looked like a wrist cuff.   
  
“With just a  _little_  more luck, it’ll be faster than that.” He held it the cuff up, wiggling it in his hand. “Short-range teleport. The receiver’s in the TARDIS.”   
  
“That’ll work?”   
  
He grinned. “Both halves are part of the TARDIS’s time field. Think she may just have the strength.”   
  
“Oh my god!” She bit her lip, grinning. “Okay, let’s go!”  
  
Donning the rucksack again, he slipped the cuff over his wrist and pulled her to him, hugging her tightly.   
  
“Ready?” he asked, tapping several buttons on the interface.   
  
She nodded, looking up at him.   
  
“We’d better cross our fingers this works.”   
  
She did. With a flash, they were gone, and her whole body felt like it was being pushed and pulled, stretched and compressed; the Doctor’s arms around her were the only consistent sensation. She closed her eyes against the unpleasant motions until, finally, all was still.   
  
Opening her eyes, she found herself surrounded by the low, distressed hum of the TARDIS, the dull green light, but this particular room was huge. The Doctor let her go, eyes focussing on a gigantic piece of machinery a few yards away.   
  
He raised his eyebrows and gave a jerk of his head, eyes intense. “Time to fix this thing.” 


	7. Katabasis

“That should do it,” he said, emerging from the TARDIS machinery and brushing off his hands.   
  
“That’s it? Time’s restarted?”   
  
“Go check,” he said with a grin.  
  
She let out an excited noise and jumped up, running out of the room and down the corridor without waiting to see if the Doctor had followed. The hallway was shorter than she expected, leading right into the console room, which was noticeably brighter than it had been the last few days. The hum was louder, too. Bolstered, Rose ran right down the ramp and out the door, rocketing through her living room and into the hallway.   
  
Jackie looked up as Rose tore towards her, smiles spreading across both their faces.  
  
“Hold on, Bev, I’ll call you back. Rose is here.”   
  
She’d just replaced the towel on its shelf when Rose knocked into her, wrapping her arms around her mother’s shoulders and laughing. Hanging up the phone, Jackie placed it on a shelf in the linen closet and wrapped her arms around Rose, squeezing her tight.   
  
“Oh, look at you! Didn’t say you’d be stopping by for a visit!”  
  
“Love you, mum,” Rose said, and hugged her so hard that Jackie made a little ‘oof’ noise, a paper crown fluttering off of her head onto the floor and escaping her notice entirely. Rose clenched her eyes shut, until Jackie pulled away, watching her.  
  
“What is it?”   
  
Rose shook her head, smiling, even as her eyes filled with tears. Jackie raised an eyebrow, cupping Rose’s face in both hands.   
  
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”   
  
“Just happy to see you.”  
  
Jackie narrowed her eyes. “And where’s himself?”  
  
Rose swallowed, shifting her weight. “In the TARDIS.”   
  
“Good. Then you can tell me what’s wrong without us being interrupted.”  
  
“Nothing, mum. S’fine, really. Just had an issue with the TARDIS, but it’s all sorted now. And it is  _so_  good to see you.”   
  
Jackie’s focus drifted from Rose’s face to some point behind her and she dropped her hands, placing them onto her hips. Rose turned and saw the Doctor, hands in his pockets, sheepish expression on his face, lingering in the doorway between the lounge and the hallway.   
  
“Hello, Jackie. Mind if we stay for lunch?”   
  
Jackie’s eyes flickered between the Doctor and Rose, expression shrewd.  
  
“I’ll see what I have in.”  
  
\--  
  
“Yes, I understand that, but I assure you there was really no other--” The Doctor frowned, moving the cordless phone away from his ear. A tinny voice yelled out incomprehensibly. He shot a look of bewilderment at Rose and Jackie, who sat on the sofa. “There’s no need to raise your voice. Honestly. I’ve left you a brilliant scooter. That alone should be compensation for any--” He paused. “Take it from my accounts, then. There should be more than--” He looked up, his face the picture of perplexed innocence. “They hung up.”   
  
“Can hardly blame them,” Rose said, crossing her legs at the ankles and taking a sip of her tea. “Imagine what that was like for them. All of a sudden, half the place’s blown to bits, and they haven’t even blinked.”   
  
“Well, there’s still no reason to shout.”   
  
Jackie snorted. “If it were me, I’d do a lot more than shout.”  
  
“I can only imagine,” the Doctor said, hanging the phone back on its cradle and leaning on the TARDIS. His hands were stuck in his pockets and his eyes drifted along the top of the wall, out the window, and back again, refusing to fall low enough to make eye contact with the women in the room.  
  
“What do you think, Rose: ham or tuna?” Jackie asked, getting up from the sofa and heading towards the kitchen.   
  
“Ham and pickle, ta. And don’t mind the bread, we packed ourselves a few sandwiches while things were frozen; that’s why there’s pieces missing.”   
  
“It’s always something mad with you two,” Jackie said, grasping Rose warmly on the shoulder as she walked by.   
  
They were silent for a moment. He stared ahead at nothing, she looked between him and the tea in her mug.  
  
“Did you call the -- um, the inn, too?” Rose looked up at him, chewing on her thumb.   
  
“What?” He looked at her, eyes wide, and put a hand in his hair. “No. What could we even tell them? ‘Sorry the bed’s been slept in, time was frozen and we were a bit knackered, so we helped ourselves’? They’re not UNIT; they don’t have any idea who I am.”   
  
“No, I know, I just meant… I think we still have their room key.”  
  
He frowned, rummaging through his pocket, until his hand stilled. Raising his eyebrows with a shrug, he said, “I’m sure they have a spare.”   
  
She nodded and the room grew quiet again, the occasional clangs of Jackie rummaging through the kitchen punctuating the heavy silence between them.   
  
They spoke at the same time.  
  
“Well, I’d better---”  
  
“You’re really just going---”  
  
They both stopped.  
  
“What?” he asked.  
  
“Um. You’re really just going to just give them the scooter?”   
  
He shrugged again. “It’s harmless, relatively speaking. You saw all the tech they had -- it’ll just be gathering dust amongst the other ‘artefacts.’ They know not to abuse it.” He paused, tilting his head. “Well. They know they can’t take it out and play with it, at least. And there’s no way they’ll be able to reverse-engineer it, not without a whole sub-branch of nuclear physics that won’t even be theoretical for another several centuries.”  
  
“Oh,” Rose said, fiddling with her mug. “And what was it you were saying?”   
  
“Yeah.” He looked at her, eyes careful. “I have a few other things I need to take care of. TARDIS things. So, er... I’ll give you some time with your mum.”   
  
“You don’t have to,” Rose said, placing her cup on the coffee table. “Think she’s making you a sandwich, too.”   
  
“Not hungry.”   
  
He pushed himself off the side of the TARDIS with one foot and stood up straight, walking around to its entrance and disappearing inside. She frowned, eyes fixed on the closed door. Even though he’d closed it quietly, the gentle click was like a door slamming, the sight of his retreating back like watching him run away.  
  
It only took a second for her to follow him inside.   
  
He stood at the console, suit jacket unbuttoned, studying the monitor. She walked over to him, leaning forward to watch the monitor, too, which displayed a picture of the bustling Powell Estate from the view through the window of Jackie’s flat.   
  
“Back to normal, yeah?”   
  
“Mm.” He switched the monitor off, eyes straight ahead.  
  
“Okay, you’re being weird again.” She stood next to him and laid a hand on his forearm where it rested on the console. “Doctor.”   
  
He flinched slightly, eyes on her hand, but didn’t speak.  
  
“What, you feeling a bit let down now the action’s over?” She grinned, toying with the edge of his sleeve, but he stayed silent. Biting her lip for a second, she went for it before she could second-guess herself. “Look, if you regret what we--” She stopped, took a steadying breath. “If you’d rather we were just mates. If that was a -- mistake -- that’s fine. That’s fine with me. But please don’t shut me out.”   
  
He placed a cool hand over hers, still looking down, and was silent for another long moment. She waited, her hand growing clammy between the rough cotton of his sleeve and the slight weight of his hand, nerves fluttering in her stomach, in her chest. When he spoke, he still didn’t raise his eyes to hers.   
  
“I think you should stay here.”   
  
“Stay here?” She toyed with a lock of hair. “Reckon mum’s got a date tonight, actually. Did you see she had her hair done all nice? Not much point hanging ‘round past tea, I don’t think.”  
  
“No, I mean, I think you should  _stay_  here.” He dropped his hand and fiddled with a knob on the console, loosening it and tightening it, again and again.  
  
Dread settled in the pit of her stomach, heavy and hot, and her face started to burn. “Why?”  
  
He clenched his jaw. “It would be… better.”   
  
“Better for who?”   
  
“For who--” He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “For  _you_. Don’t you see? How many times have you nearly been killed because of-- And then we’re stranded. Twice, we’re stranded, and--”   
  
“And we fixed it!”  
  
“This time.”  
  
“Every time! We find a way and we fix things. That’s what we do.”   
  
“Every time, so far. But there are only so many times before--”  
  
“Doctor,  _this_  is the life I want. On the TARDIS. With you.” She stepped toward him, but he turned, positioning himself away from her, spreading his hands wide on the console and leaning forward, head bowed.   
  
“And it’s going to get you  _killed_ , Rose. Or worse.”  
  
“It won’t. You and me - we always find a way. That’s what we do.”   
  
“Until our luck runs out.”  
  
“It’s not luck, it’s--”  
  
“It’s  _luck_. It is. And when it runs out--” He swallowed. “You wouldn’t be the first person who’s died travelling with me.”   
  
She flinched. “I’m sorry. I am. About everything you’ve lost. But - you showed me there’s a better way of living. I can’t go back to-- nine to five and retail and beans on toast. I don’t  _want_  to go back. I want to stay with you.”  
  
“And I want you to be  _safe_.”  
  
She nodded, and now her face felt cold, her chest tight. “And, what, my staying or leaving - that’s your choice?”   
  
He cleared his throat, unable to meet her eyes, fingers digging into the console.   
  
She laughed, bitter, and folded her arms. “No, I don’t think so. You don’t get to decide that.”   
  
“Rose, please--”  
  
“I’m not leaving you.”  
  
“Do you think I could live with myself? When it goes wrong. The next time we’re stranded, and we’re not so lucky. The next time you’re in danger, and I’m not quite fast enough. Have you thought, what that would do to me? I couldn’t--”  
  
“That’s not going to happen. You don’t need to worry about that.”   
  
He shook his head. “I do. All the time, I do.”  
  
“So that’s it, then? You’re leaving? You’ve changed your mind?”  
  
Rose waited for a moment, but he remained silent.  
  
“Why don’t we talk about what this is really about, Doctor.”   
  
“I don’t know what you--”   
  
“You kissed me!” She stepped forward, further into his personal space, and stared up at him, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You did more than kiss me. And you’re just so  _scared_  to let me in that you’d rather--”  
  
“Of course I’m scared!” He reeled on her, eyes wild, the glow of the console casting harsh shadows across his face. “How could I not be scared, nearly getting you killed every other day? I’ve  _been_  scared, and now that I’ve…” He pursed his lips. “I can’t lose you.”   
  
“You leave me here, you already have.”   
  
“It’s not the same.”  
  
“No,” she said, voice low. “It’s worse. If you and me fail? We don’t save the day, or we die doing it? At least that means we were brave enough to try. I thought you might tell me you regret kissing me, or you didn’t mean it, and we’d go on like we always have, but this…” She laughed, shaking her head. “Telling me to stay here for my own good? That’s a joke. Cause it’s never gonna happen.”   
  
“Rose--”   
  
“No. If you’re not brave enough to take a chance on us, that’s fine. We can go on being best mates, and I’ll never hold it against you, not ever, even though we both know how it is we really feel. But I won’t just let you decide  _you’re_  too scared to let me go on living the life that  _I_  want. That’s not fair.”   
  
She held his gaze, chin raised, arms stubbornly folded. Something shifted behind his eyes, the quiet desperation turning into something darker, and he brought a hand to her face. Cupping her cheek, he lowered his face to hers, pushing his lips roughly into hers. She kissed him back, threading an arm around his neck as he circled his around her waist and pulled her close. When he slid his tongue along the seam of her lips and pressed her up against the console, grinding his hips into hers and sliding his hands under her arse, encouraging her to jump onto it, she broke the kiss, pulling back and placing a hand on his chest.   
  
“No. Not till you’re sure what it is you want,” she said, fingertips digging into his oxford. He backed away, her hand slipping off him, and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes on the floor.   
  
“I’ll give you some time to think, but don’t you dare leave.”  
  
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, voice hoarse.  
  
“Good.”  
  
\--  
  
When Rose walked back into the lounge, she found Jackie sitting on the sofa, chewing, leaning over the several crustless, halved sandwiches laid out on a tray on the coffee table.   
  
“He’s staying in that ship of his?” she asked around a bite.  
  
“Yeah. Um. Thanks for the sandwiches, mum. I’ll bring him one later.” Rose gave her a small smile and sat down on the sofa, grabbing a half of a sandwich off the tray and taking a bite.   
  
“Mind your crumbs,” Jackie said, switching on the telly, and Rose rolled her eyes.   
  
They ate in silence for a few moments. Rose grabbed her second piece of sandwich, nibbling on a corner, when Jackie muted the programme and fixed her with a firm look.   
  
“All right. He’s obviously not coming back for a while yet. Tell me why he’s hiding.”   
  
Rose swallowed her bite. “What makes you think he’s hiding?”   
  
Jackie rolled her eyes. “Normally, he follows you ‘round like a lost puppy. Now he’s running here and there, on the phone, back into the TARDIS,  _and_  he won’t look me in the eye? Come on, sweetheart.” She put a hand on Rose’s knee. “Just tell me what happened.”   
  
“We, um…” Rose trailed off, cheeks growing warm.   
  
“Shagged? Finally?” Jackie asked with a gentle smile. “It’s all right, you can tell me. God knows he’s a better choice than Jimmy, even if he is an alien, but you’d better be using protection, the last thing we need’s an alien preg--”   
  
“Mum! We didn’t shag,” Rose said, voice sharp, ignoring the fact that her words weren’t precisely true. “Besides, the Doctor gave me this… injection, when I started traveling with him. Don’t have to worry about that.”   
  
“Gave you an  _injection_ , did he?” Jackie huffed. “I’ll bet.”   
  
“Not like that,” Rose said, looking away. “And, at any rate, that’s not the point! It’s just… We... I don’t know. When… when everything was frozen, he kissed me. And - it was nice. It was sweet. But then…” She sat up, placing the half-eaten sandwich back on the tray, and folding her arms. “I dunno. He did it again, only he was… Upset, sort of? And then we…” She swallowed. “And he just…  _again_ , right after he was saying I’d be better off leaving him, and now I’m not sure what’s gonna happen, with him being all weird ever since…”   
  
“He’s probably just scared, love, now he’s made a move. Anyone can see that barmy alien’s arse-over-elbow for you.”   
  
“I dunno. When we… he said we’d talk after. Only…” She tugged a throw pillow onto her lap and fiddled with the trim. “I don’t think he expected there to be an ‘after.’”  
  
“Then he underestimated you, he did.”  
  
“Underestimated himself,” she said with a little laugh. “I told him I’m not staying here.” She paused, glancing at Jackie. “Sorry.”   
  
“Ta, love.”   
  
“And, anyway, I don’t think he’ll leave me behind, but…” She frowned. “Where does that leave us? Ever since we… It’s been weird, and I dunno how to get through to him. What’s gonna happen if he’s second guessing me being with him all the time? How can we go on like that?”   
  
“I’m telling you, Rose: there’s no way that man’s letting you go.” Jackie sat back on the sofa. “He’s just figuring it out, how to act, now he’s admitted how he feels.”   
  
“But he  _didn’t_  admit how he feels, he just--”  
  
“Rose, the man goes on and on and never says a thing. Him shutting up long enough to shove his tongue down your throat’s as good as a handwritten love letter, it is.”   
  
Rose shook her head, chuckling, as she felt her cheeks heat up again.   
  
Jackie shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Rose’s shoulders and pulling her in until she sighed and rested her head on Jackie’s shoulder. “Give him some time, sweetheart. He’ll come ‘round.”   
  
\--  
  
She’d showered, changed, and made it through four episodes of a marathon of The Vicar of Dibley with Jackie when the Doctor reappeared, head popping out of the entrance of the TARDIS, looking around the room like a turtle hazarding a glance outside its shell. Rose lifted her head off of Jackie’s shoulder, watching him, until their eyes met. His shifted away, but by the way he raised his eyebrows and jerked his head back in an invitation to come inside and join him, Rose figured he may have been avoiding her mum’s stare rather than her own. With a last, hopeful look, he disappeared again, shutting the door.  
  
“Go on, then,” Jackie said, giving her a squeeze.   
  
Rose sighed, standing up and stretching her arms high over her head. She smiled at her mum, giving a little shrug. “Wish me luck, I guess?”   
  
“Mmhm.” Jackie stood, grabbing the leftover sandwiches and heading back towards the kitchen. “By the way, I’m staying at Howard’s tonight. So you two’d better just plan on spending the rest of the evening without me.”   
  
Rose shook her head, smiling. “See you later, then.”  
  
“Knock some sense into him, or I may have a go.”   
  
\--  
  
He was waiting for her on the ramp of the TARDIS. She passed him, feeling him stir the air as he followed, and when she reached the centre of the console room, she turned. He was right behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist as soon as she faced him, pulling her into a tight hug.   
  
“I’m sorry. About being a coward.”   
  
“You’re not a--”   
  
“Oh, I am, there’s no question. When it comes to what I…” He shook his head, a sardonic smile spreading across his face. “I’m definitely a coward, Rose. But I’m also sorry.”   
  
“Good. Cause I’m staying.”  
  
“Yeah. ‘Course you are.”   
  
She moved back, looking up at him, but staying close enough for him to keep his arms wrapped snugly around her. “What’d you think, anyway? That I’d find myself another shop to work in if you dropped me off?”   
  
“Well…” He tilted his head, looking up towards the ceiling with narrowed eyes.  
  
“Y’know, Doctor…” She shot him a grin. “I reckon I’d make myself quite useful here, if I had to.”  
  
“Find trouble, you mean,” he said, a smile growing on his face.   
  
“Yep, and with no Doctor to save me.”   
  
He tilted his head, watching her. “Think I’d be worse off with no Rose to save me.”  
  
“I do tend to save your sorry bum a lot these days, don’t I?”   
  
“Mm. Better we stick together and save each other then.”   
  
She laughed, squeezing his midsection. “Definitely.”  
  
They lapsed into a comfortable silence. She buried her head in his neck, letting out a deep breath and closing her eyes, letting relief wash over her.   
  
“And… there’s something else,” he said, after a moment.   
  
“Yeah?” She looked up at him. His face was very close to hers.   
  
“I know what it is that I want.” He sniffed. “I… I want to try.”   
  
“Yeah?” she whispered.  
  
“Yeah.” He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead before moving downward and pressing more slow kisses to her temple, her cheek, and the corner of her mouth. Finally, he dipped down, brushing his lips gently across hers. She kissed him back, sweetly, enjoying the light touches of his lips on hers even as emotion welled up inside her. When she pulled away, she offered him a watery smile.   
  
“You sure?”   
  
He nodded, and when he spoke his voice was quiet, scratchy. “You were right. About how I feel… and I think it’s time I was brave.”   
  
A smile bloomed across her face and she tugged him in for another kiss by his lapels.   
  
\--  
  
  
Fingers entwined, they made their way to Rose’s bedroom, stealing glances, smiling at one another. Rose felt just a bit giddy, like she’d eaten too much sugar, or like she was standing at a tall, craggy shore, the sensation all the more disorienting since it was coupled with being well and truly exhausted. She caught the Doctor’s eyes on her and they were warmer than she’d ever seen them, holding barely a trace of the tension she was used to seeing behind his gaze.  
  
“You sure you’re tired?”   
  
“Totally knackered,” she said, grinning.   
  
“Oh, good.” He got ahead of her and tugged her through the doorway, into her room. “Me too.”  
  
He pulled her close, kissing her, and she giggled into his mouth, twining her hands through his hair. He walked forward, forcing her to step backward, until her legs hit the bed and she fell onto it with a squeak, taking him down with her. He cushioned his landing on his arms, elbows on either side of her head, her hair fanning out against the duvet and the sleeves of his shirt.   
  
“Hi.” He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her jaw.  
  
“Hey,” she whispered.   
  
He shifted off of her, rolling over and pulling her into his side. When she looked up at him, his face was so close to hers that she kissed him without even lifting her chin. He sighed, hand travelling down to her waist, tracing the bare patch of skin over the waistline of her shorts.   
  
Heat throbbed down into her stomach and between her legs. He deepened the kiss as his fingers slipped beneath her shorts and traced a line along her hip, his short nails tickling her on every down stroke, the pads of his fingers soothing the sensations on the way back up.   
  
She slung her leg over him, kissing him for several long moments, until that wasn’t enough, and she rolled fully on top of him. Clasping his hips between her thighs, she arched her back as she ground into him. He broke away, hissing out a breath, and grabbed the hem of her shirt, glancing at her face, waiting for her nod, before peeling it off her. She tugged at his shirt buttons, helping him undo them one by one, her starting at the bottom and him at the top until they met in the middle. He half sat, his bared abdomen flexing, forcing Rose to balance herself on her knees, and he pulled his shirt off, tossing it across the room.   
  
She kissed him again, rubbing herself against his lap, feeling him harden through his trousers and the thin fabric of her sleep shorts.   
  
“We should probably should take things slow,” she said.  
  
“Right.” He grabbed her hips and ground into her. “Definitely.”  
  
“Good.”   
  
She reached down and unbuttoned his fly, letting her palm slide over his erection as she unzipped his trousers. Leaning on her knees, she pulled his trousers and pants off of his hips and down his legs. He kissed her, ragged and sloppy, and kicked off the clothing when it reached his ankles.   
  
When she settled on his lap again, he unhooked her bra, tossing it to the side and leaning forward to capture a nipple between his lips. He worried it with his tongue, his hand teasing its twin, moaning with her when she cried out.  
  
She cursed under her breath, lifting her hips up, and pulled down her shorts and her knickers, his hands steadying her as she nearly tipped over. Angling herself so she was centred over his erection, she slid against him and groaned. Dropping her head into his neck, she focused on the way his cock rubbed slickly along her clit with every stroke, moving her hips faster. He whispered her name, fingers pressing hard into her hips as he aided her in her movements. When he began sucking a spot just under her ear and brought one hand around, reaching underneath her arse to plunge two fingers into her wetness, she seized up, her centre fluttering around him. She squeezed her eyes shut, moaning, hips bucking, and he cursed, pumping his fingers and rutting against her until she slowed.   
  
She kissed him, still moving lazily along his cock, and he broke away, flipping her over and settling himself on top of her.   
  
“Slow, right?” he asked.  
  
“Mmhm.”   
  
He kissed her again, tangling a hand in her hair.   
  
“Is this slow?” he asked as he moved his cock to her entrance.   
  
“Fuck.”   
  
“It’s not, is it?”   
  
She keened, moving her hips, seeking friction, and her outer lips parted around him. He let out an ‘oh,’ and stilled.   
  
“Please,” she said, lifting her hips  
  
“Are you sure?”   
  
“Fuck. Yeah.  _Fuck._ ”   
  
He groaned, sliding his hands under her hips and pushing inside.   
  
She moaned and he buried his face in her neck, kissing her there, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in. He released a shuddering breath and sped his motions, bringing his hand down to rub her clit. He kept his thrusts long and deep, speeding it up until she began clenching around him.   
  
Heat spread through her core, tingling into her limbs, and she arched up, linking her ankles around his thighs, grinding her clit against his pubic bone. He moved his hands to grip her under her arse and lengthened his strokes, making sure to rub against her clit with every thrust, pushing her higher and higher until she came apart again, arching into him as she cried out. He followed and the muscles in his back seized under her fingertips as he emptied himself into her.  
  
When they stilled, he dropped his forehead onto her shoulder, breathing hard.   
  
Rose waited for her own breathing to calm and, after a moment, let out a laugh. “So much for slow.”  
  
He laughed, too, rolling onto his back and tugging her so she lay with her head on his chest.   
  
“Ah, but just going for it, that’s brave, right?”   
  
“Mm, very brave.” She sighed, nuzzling her face into the hollow of his neck.   
  
A smile spread across his face. “Think you might be up for another act of bravery some time soon?”   
  
“Mm. Yes. Absolutely. Later.”   
  
“But think of the gallantry… persevering now, against all odds, when we haven’t a shred of energy left.”   
  
She lifted her head to give him a nip on the chest. He yelped, laughing and pulling her tighter to him.   
  
Peeking up at him with one sleepy eye, she said, “Wake me in six hours and twenty two minutes.”   
  
“Hmm.” He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head, pulling the duvet over them a little tighter. “Think I know just how to do it.” 

 


End file.
